Focus
by TheGoodLiving
Summary: Max is back in Arcadia Bay to pursue her last year of high school in Blackwell Academy's Photography program in hopes of getting a good shoe in for University. She reunites with best friend Chloe and learns firsthand how to overcome the obstacles life tries to throw and the ones she creates herself. Witness Chloe and Max learn from each other what they couldn't grasp alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I LOVE Life is Strange, but it isn't mine.**

 **xx**

" _Welcome my Lovelies!_ "

Mrs. Davies' class. My most interesting class led by my favorite teacher in Blackwell Academy. Before jumping on my scholarship opportunity and flinging myself back to Arcadia Bay for the Photography program I would've swore to my core I couldn't possibly grow to love the art more deeply than the level of devotion I had for it already. But that first day Mrs. Davies strolled into the room and into my life twirling her trusty magic tripod and sang the most beautiful songs of shutter speeds and lenses and I fell in love all over again. The woman zipped like an endless battery. Never calm never quiet and always buzzing with _something_ to say. And although I'm generally a relaxed person every day in her class is always better than the last. I thought her jumping around would wear out quick, but it's my third month and her quirky magnetism still gripped me.

"Come dearies sit, sit! Oh we've got so much to discuss today!" Mrs. Davies cheered, clapping with excitement and even her clap sounded thrilled.

I grabbed my seat at the back of the class, sighing as I sunk in. I loved Mrs. Davies and if I had the courage to I'd be front and center right up at the board to catch her every unpredictable word like rainwater, but Victoria's little group practiced paper basketball in their spare time-aka, Max target ball-and none of them exactly made the team. I don't pull off much as it is, and scrunched up class notes don't compliment my sensitive complexion. Besides, Mrs. Davies got swingy when excited and my coordination is as high as Warren's beer limit on a wild night. And we never have any.

 _Catch these hands Max, as I throw them in photographic glee over the history of portraiture._

 _No Mrs. Davies, regretfully I am biologically unable to indulge you. My shame, is a great one._

Black eyes don't do well for my complexion either.

"As you all know, today is the beginning of our newest chapter. One of my favorites!" she said as she approached the board. Her wild red curls bounced behind her through the bright green head scarf that fit like a crown around her head. She wrote something on the board without struggle. Not like the first several weeks she'd frazzled up and down the wall flapping away the photos she'd hung onto it to get room to write. They devoured the whiteboard like confetti. Like an explosion of gunk and glitter, only they were photos. Photos that were shockingly sophisticated considering the woman in the lavender bellbottoms and neon pink poncho was the one who took them.

Mrs. Davies always shoved them all back into place at the end of class despite having another one right after ours. It was half way through the second month before we convinced her to just stick the photos on the walls. But now the whole room wore color, and comfortingly enough, there were whacky photos sprinkled around in there too. My favorite was the banana skinny dipping in peanut butter. I prefered those over the ones oozing in professionalism. Mrs. Davies did brilliant work, but any trace of sanity from her disconcerted me.

"Mood, Lighting, and Angles."

Mrs. Davies ran a ragged line under the words before pushing her thick black round rim glasses up her nose. I ruffled for my notebook as she scrawled out some more things, and Victoria deflated a scoff one table over. She rolled her eyes, scowling as she tapped her boot against the desk leg.

"This freakshow is supposed to be the head Photography professor in a school as prestigious as Blackwell Academy?" she muttered. "What the hell is this world going to..."

"Three key elements of capturing the most dimensional of photographs. Subtle in their own rights, but so _profound_ in their impact. And so closely reliant on the whole that one cannot live without the other. We'll start with Mood: what is mood you ask? Good question." with a great beam Mrs. Davies threw an arm at Daniel.

"You sweetums, if I asked to take a photo of you right here what would be your first move?"

"Uh," Daniel stuttered, fidgeting with his glasses.

"Ah! Brilliant!" Mrs. Davies applauded, shaking him by the shoulders because Principal Wells requested she stop kissing us on the cheek after his visit two weeks ago. We didn't mind it, least I didn't, but apparently it was considered unprofessional. If feeling like a warm jar of bubbles exploded in your heart was unprofessional then professionalism can go take a cold frigid hike. I liked Mrs. Davies congratulation kisses.

"Absolutely brilliant, Daniel: insecurity, confusion, awkwardness. The perfect emotion to convey int0 a photograph. A perfect canvas on which mood can come alive."

"Uh, I was reacting to the question, Mrs. Davies. I hadn't gotten around to answering."

"Yes but what richer answer is there for photography but reaction? In every aspect of life, the richest moments worth recording, in whatever medium, is pure raw _emotion_. Is it not?"

"I suppose."

"If you had the choice to pose, what would you have done?"

Daniel scratched the back of his head with pudgy fingers. Charcoal stained the tips black and I frowned a little. Art was his passion, not photography. That's where he belonged.

"I guess I would choose to smile."

Disapproval burbled over Mrs. Davies' exuberant face until it was the only thing left. She clicked her tongue, pressing her glasses back up her nose as she walked a full circle around his desk at the very front, and returned to her desk by the board.

"See but now raw emotion has been dissolved and dispersed. Made murky by an artificial, unnatural smile." Mrs. Davies said, plastic sounding as she took up something from her table.

"Mood requires vulnerability." she said, straightening up. " _Honesty_ from the subject, be it human or animal or object. Unless captured in genuine expression, a _smile_ ," Mrs. Davies lifted her lips up into an excessive, creepy beam with her fingertips. "Is a lie. And in order to begin the setting of mood we must first, establish openness and truth with the subject- _ **hit the dirt, Mavis!**_ "

The room jumped as Mrs. Davies rocketed her arm into a throw. My heart exploded in my chest as I took shelter behind my arms. The others yelped and as my heart palpitated something splunked against my head with a tiny splat, it left a cool spot of wetness behind before rolling onto my desk. Some seconds lingered before I dared to lift my head, and when I did, the others did the same. My throat beat to the rhythm of my heart as I scanned my table for the object. My stomach dropped when I did.

"Now, the honest seconds of _emotion_ surrounding the throwing of that grape is the purity we're looking for." Mrs. Davies stated, she sifted a napkin through her digits before running them through her disheveled halo of hair to catch it out of her eyes. Her glasses hung off the side of her nose now but she only rested her hands on her hips and gave us a pleased nod. "We can use this memory as a reference to take us back to that place of honesty. With it in hand, the approach to taking photos will be different and the _result_ of such change can be enhanced by lighting and angles. Why is authenticity emphasized in regards to mood?"

"Because mood dissipates when too much intention takes over the subject.." Evan answered, straightening up in his chair and slicking his hair. "It's why animals or landscape are easiest to capture without obscuring mood. Because humans are prone to acting _not_ like themselves."

Mrs. Davies held out a finger gun and winked. "Precisely, my dear. Although when appropriately and honestly exuded, the human subject is capable of the most beautiful expressions, be it heartache, rage, fear, love. The loving gaze of a mother for her child, the sun that shines out of her in that moment: that is honest expression. Or the hatred of a man for the betrayal of his wife, wounded eyes sharpened with stone while the edges are tinged with pain he hates her, because he loved her. The glee overtaking a friendly face that recognizes your approach. Even the fear of a volatile flying grape, these moments of inherent honesty are expressed every day, all of them absent and visceral in nature. But stick a _**lens in front of you!**_ _"_ Mrs. Davies jolted again and our whole class dove for the ground. When we recovered, her camera was pointed at us. " _Usually,_ that honesty is lost in a veil. _These_ are the key element to the pure capture of mood for both the subject and the photographer. Once we've learned to utilize that, _magic_ is captured in time."

"With mood as a base, life is preserved. But mood is conceptual. Doesn't start nor stop at angles or lighting. Mood exists in the spirit of the photo, whether that be the subject or the photographer or both. Only life can breed life, as they say."

I doubted I ever heard anyone say that. But what she said made sense. Then again _anything_ Mrs. Davies said could make sense. It could've been her delivery-which was psycho whacky crazy-but everything she said always seemed to have a point. Like anything can make sense to a crazy person. Or maybe their flexible minds could just see around more things.

"Now, we're going to go over some examples of deeply mood saturated photos. The presence will be evident, the trick now will be to learn to convey it in your own photos. Mavis, if you could help me find my powerpoint remote."

I slunk out of my chair and retrieved said remote from the skeleton man stood up in the back corner. I tugged his jaw down and the remote slid from his teeth into my waiting hands.

She usually lost it otherwise.

"Ah! Thank you Mavis!"

* * *

"Yo Max!" Warren hooted, waving his arms as he jogged up to my table. The wind blew his hair in every direction, combing through mine and making the trees rustle around me. I waved him over and tossed my camera bag aside to free the bench for him.

I noticed the grass dancing too, singing a softer song than the trees as Warren's worn tennis shoes whispered through it.

"Hey Warren." I greeted, happy to see him and whipping a hair behind my ear so it would stop flying around. I liked the wind, felt like it enveloped me, combing me like it combed the grass and carrying any thought away with it as it went. The wind always kept me clear minded.

"Maximus! How'd Mrs. Davies class go? I heard she cannoned you with a paintball."

I rolled my eyes. "You should know by now not to believe everything that floats around out here. It was a grape, and it served educational purpose."

Warren howled in laughter. "With Mrs. Davies _everything_ serves educational purpose. Her whacky mind could come up with _any_ way to make a crazy point."

I nicked his shoulder, light enough not to hurt but I still scowled. "Tread lightly Warren Graham, your extensive study of horror and action films won't prepare you for bad mouthing my favorite teacher."

"Hey, who's badmouthing? Mrs. Davies' the best kind of whacky. I'd wanna take a whirl in her mind more than once that's for sure."

"It's probably full of colors." I grinned. "Colors and brilliance."

"So what'd she talk about today?"

"We're learning about mood now. Among others, but I wanna take them one thing at a time. I don't really understand it. She went on about honesty and authenticity. How are you supposed to convey that in a picture?"

"Well, you're always droning on," he ignored my punch but a grin lit his lips after. "About how certain pictures make you feel. The colors and shading of certain things like light colors and dark colors make a big impact on a picture."

"Yea but she hadn't even touched on the lighting yet. It's part of the lesson but I feel like mood is something that stands on its own, before the rest."

"Lighting's important to mood too, though." Warren pointed out.

I scanned over my notes again, barreling through the scribble with aggressive expectancy. Like I willed the words to make sense to me. "Mrs. Davies did mention they couldn't live without the other. So I guess its its own thing, but also not."

"Ooh. A philosophical lesson, like the chicken or the egg."

I rolled my eyes again, pushing him another time. "No, Warren, I don't think so.. Who knows."

"Mrs. Davies."

"Mrs. Davies knows all."

* * *

I shoved through my door like a lanky lumberjack. Dropping my book bag and my photo-bag by the nightstand and collapsing on the floor. Because a shower waited for me after I regained the strength anyway, and because outdoor clothes on my indoor couch made me cringe and shudder. No public bacteria on my home stuff please. Swim class was the possible culprit of my exhaustion, I typically had more energy to spare at the end of the day. Especially seeing we only had four classes. First period through third one day, fourth through sixth the next, and so forth. My fourth class, Photography, the school counselor and I arranged to have everyday. Everyone had the choice of one everyday class, I chose mine without question. The wind probably had something to do with it too, I loved it, but it blew strong today and overtime it cooled me to the bone.

I laid there for a while, staring up at the smooth white ceiling and noting the flawlessness. Blackwell didn't play any games. Top notch school, top notch ceilings. Nice. I could put some photos up there if my wall got too impacted, but that might be overkill. I had a beautiful wall, too much of a good thing could turn sour real quick. I'd have to think of a new idea.

I took an arm under my head and needles exploded in my elbow, "Agh, _fudgeknuckles_!" I growled, hugging it to my chest and glaring at the nightstand. I stirred and the wooden leg of my bed brushed against my shin. "The floor might not have been my best idea."

Among the armrest of my couch, the side of my bed and my nightstand, the lantern lights I hung over my bed played a part of coloring my spotless white ceiling with peripheral. I paused, contemplating before reaching up and rummaging for my camera.

I held the viewfinder to my eye. "Angles." the cold plastic body pressed against my lips as I snapped the picture. My camera wasn't cold, thank waffles. I plucked the film out and waved it and thought back to Mrs. Davies class.

Something wasn't registering. Everything she covered floated above my head, elusive, nothing solid, nothing anchored. Angles and lighting weren't unfamiliar. Slightest changes that left the largest impacts. Universes conveyed through the subtle things. But mood, I don't know. Mood I didn't quite understand. I'd rack my brain about it again, but it was probably another reason why my body wouldn't move. Plus I felt a headache coming on.

I scanned the film for a minute, two minutes. Did this have mood? Of course it did. Every photo had mood, just some more stifled than others. Like a hidden feeling, or perfume that faded away. I knew of mood before the class. Pretty certain everyone did, but the way Mrs. Davies went over it, brought a new light I hadn't heard of until now.

Dark colors, foggy skies. Greys, blues, all these gave a mood. I knew this. But mood itself? She described it like a living thing, what could she mean by that?

"Don't start up again." I chided. "Mad Max had her share of ruminating for the day. Now it's shower time."

It took a handful more minutes before I hauled myself back onto my feet, which were heavy when I dragged them off to the showers but it was worth it. The hot water did wonders, and the boulders at my ankles on the way to the showers became noodles on my way back. I made it in time to collapse again, this time on my bed, with wet hair and grateful legs.

"Paradise."

I drawled into my cushion and refused to move. I don't know how much time went by when my phone pinged. But I know a good twenty minutes lugged on when I finally decided to answer. Which was only because of the notifications that followed after.

Warren wanted to hang out some more before curfew but I had zero energy for visitors. I told him I'd catch him tomorrow and he reminded me about his flashdrive. I cursed, and let another handful of minutes pass by before throwing a dead arm over my bed rail to tug the dresser open.

I know I tossed it in here somewhere.

I rummaged blind, with movements that were more lethargic flailing than anything else. I heard clatter, felt cloth, saw shiny things glisten. Reorganizing this tomorrow would be a pain.

" _Psh, organization's a waste of time! Got too much life to be living."_

My heart clenched, and the familiar touch of photo film grazed my fingers. I didn't know for sure if she'd respond that way now. Five years left a lot of space for change. Granted I couldn't recall anything significant for myself except the gap between me and the best friend I left behind. Could I still call her that? Did I have the right to?

I plucked the card out from the drawer and let my heart drop because resisting would probably only make it worse. Warm blue eyes beamed up at me, the crown of a happy smile.

"Chloe."

I hadn't gone out through town since my arrival but she knows I'm back. I could feel it. No new-or old-news goes in or out of this small town without it knowing every detail. Holing up in Blackwell would do nothing to stop it. But that's what I did, am doing. No doubt it's the reason I haven't left in the three months I've been back. Cowering, honestly. I wouldn't know where to begin.

Would Chloe hate me? I couldn't see why not. I couldn't blame her either. But I put it off long enough. I'm going to have to contact her someday. I'd disappeared for long enough and it wasn't fair to her. She deserved an explanation, or at least for me to reach out to her first. I doubted she would, but if she came out to me first, I'd only be the bigger douche bag for it. But an explanation was exactly why I glossed over three months being back home without a single call.

Fuck.

My eyes were heavy.

I used it as an excuse to drift away.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I'll grow some guts another day.

 **xx**

 **Hi there! Glad you could stop by. If you hadn't noticed already I replaced Jefferson with my own little Mrs. because I never liked Jefferson from the beginning and having him in the story felt like it'd put an unintentional shadow on the lighthearted feel I'm going to be attempting to convey from now on. I _suck_ at lighthearted so it could end up just being neutral but bear with me! If you like what you see do please leave a review I'd love to know what you think of Mrs. Davies, don't like her? Maybe she can grow on you? Also, I'm taking major liberties with these photography terms and usages. Thanks again and have an AWESOME day :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**xx**

 _Fridays with Chloe were the best!_

Any _day with Chloe was the best but_ Friday _we got to spend the_ whole _day together right after school. Fridays meant no homework and a whole weekend to explore._

 _(Actually weekends with Chloe were probably the best)_

 _William picked us up this time to take us to the park, and Chloe and me raced to his car to see who'd win. Chloe was always taller than me so she won.. Like always. But I cheated and got a head start… and still lost. Fudge. I'll beat her one day. Chloe said I never would though._

" _ **No one**_ _beats Captain Chloe!" I always rolled my eyes when she said that. Cuz I_ was _gunna beat her one day._ One _day._

" _Look, Max! Our ship!" Chloe squealed, throwing a finger at the playground. I heaved behind her, trying to keep up while our little legs pumped us toward the sand. My breathing and my heartbeat rang and thudded in my ears while the wind whipped around us._

 _Ah! I love the wind._

 _Chloe and me were pirates through and through; sailing the open seas no matter what stood in our way so we brought our ship anywhere and everywhere we wanted. But at the playground, the whole place was our ship and everything that stood inside the sandy square. The slides, the swings, the bridge, the bars; everything transformed into tunnels and cogs and sails and masts. And the big tall jungle gym in the middle was the crow's nest and Chloe's favorite spot. Even though she was the Captain and the Captain's supposed to take the wheel._

" _That's what you're for, Max." she told me once. "You'll always take us to great places. Besides, that's why I'm the lookout. I can guide you the right way from up there."_

 _But she liked going to the crow's nest because it took her real high, higher than the swings and I didn't like climbing up there like she did. Especially not as high as Chloe likes to go. She goes all the way to the top. Up on the round part that juts out higher than the rest. Only the brave kids go up there, and Chloe-but she didn't go up there when we were together. When we were together we went somewhere else and made a forest or a mountain or an ocean and we'd explore on our own._

 _Chloe's converse pattered against the concrete like a drum beat. Our ship was closing in fast and the crow's nest kept growing and growing._

" _Ship, ho!" Chloe yelled._

" _I think that's just for land, Chloe!"_

 _Chloe exploded into laughter and my tummy started tickling. We weren't racing this time but Chloe was beating me, again. She would've hit the sand before I did, and the first thing she'd go for was the jungle gym. I could hear her laughing over her breathing and over mine. It bunched my tummy up and after a while I burst into laughter too, I couldn't help it, it tickled too much. William called out from behind us but I couldn't hear what he said. He probably told us to be safe though. He always did that, and Chloe never listened, and William always had to come and check us at least once. But never more than twice. Chloe was wild, but she loves him too, so she never made him have to scold us too much. She saved that behavior for when we were alone. Which didn't work out for me because then I had no adult figure to protect me from her shenanigans. I liked it most of the time though. We_ never _got bored that way._

 _We were so close to the sand now, and the bottom of Chloe's converse kept flashing in front of me. The wind built up and blew through us, squeezing between the gaps and it frumpled through my hair and against my skin. It felt really good and if I could I would've started purring. Was this how cats feel?_

 _Chloe's laughing changed colors in the last stretch to our ship and happy triumph seeped into it. "I'm gunna beat you again!"_

 _I growled a little bit, because_ no she wasn't _and when Chloe's foot hit the lip of the playground I bunched up all the energy I had and lunged._

" _Ahhh!" the squeal was mostly cuz I was scared, because I could land on my face and it'll hurt. And also because William was probably watching and he might come running. I was also kind of scared of something going wrong but when I crashed into Chloe's back I hit a warm wall that smelled like bubble gum shampoo and laughter zipped through me so there wasn't room for fear. Chloe was still laughing when I hit her and we only laughed harder while we rolled and everything turned into sand and swirls._

" _Max you cheater!" she cried but she only sniggered more and I couldn't do anything else._

" _ **You're**_ _a cheater, your legs are too long!"_

" _I'm built like a champ, Max! Blame my dad for that."_

" _I blame_ _ **you**_ _, you grow too fast."_

 _Chloe's hair danced in the wind, chestnut curtains that looked orange when the sun shined through it so low in the sky. Her happy face was kind of like the sun too. It always made me happy to see her smile, like it made me happy to hear Mama Joyce make popcorn for movie night._

 _A strong gust burst past us and made everything shake, the trees the swings, Chloe's hair, my skin. My heart sang a little when it happened cuz it felt so good, I wanted to tell Chloe about it but she cackled over me and clawed her hair from her face. Chloe's body blocked most of the sand when it flew up but some of it snuck into my overalls and I cringed. Yuck._

" _Blast," Chloe shouted. Shoving her hands on her hips while she looked down at me. Her pink princess shirt widened with her arms until the picture stretched and I grinned. Chloe hated that shirt and she already got mud on it at recess to get her mom to throw it away sooner. "The wind is a-coming strong, First Mate Max. Quick, we better switch course!"_

" _Aye aye,"_

 _We scrambled up and Chloe dashed for the jungle gym. I started for the big plastic pirate wheel on top of the green platform that led to the slides but Chloe grabbed me and tugged me with her._

" _You gotta help me move the sails first," she said and we started climbing. The jungle gym was cold and my muscles got all tight. The wind picked up and made everything noisy and tickly. My hair clung to my face and for a while I climbed without seeing anything. Sometimes I caught Chloe's hair flickering above and other times I caught the soles of her old converse climbing up and up and up._

 _"We should steer the west sail so we can cruise into safety."_

" _No way, Max! We sail_ _ **with**_ _the wind. So we can fly!"_

 _We finally reached the top, at least the part that I wasn't too scared to climb, and Chloe went on while I gripped the bars. She wrenched up, grunting as her muddy converse found the right places to pull her up. Her hair went all wild and pretty and my hands got clammy while she lifted further away from me. Chloe sat on top of the dome like she won something and clapped her hands together like she was cleaning off dust, and beamed. She looked down at me, thrilled. Chloe's smile was like a campfire you could make s'mores with; it could warm you up and make you fuzzy inside._

" _Come on, Max it's time to fly," Chloe encouraged, gleaming with excitement._

 _I shrunk and my muscles locked up and the jungle gym became a tall building and I became a bug and Chloe became the sun that I couldn't look at too long or I'd have to close my eyes._

" _Max?" Chloe said, and when I got myself to look, the sun beamed down on me through happy eyes and grinned really big. "Come on Max, you gotta keep up if you're gunna be my First Mate!"_

* * *

" _Nagh!"_

I jolted and the world tumbled. Everything blurred into sound and colors until I crashed into the floor. I wheezed as the air gushed out of my lungs as if someone came and smacked me in the back with a brick wall.

 _Fudge_.

Functioning became a foreign apparition I couldn't comprehend and for a while I flailed like a fish until my body pulled my shit together by itself. To be honest, if most of my mechanics didn't function automatically, I probably would've dropped dead a long time ago.

"Ugh," I groaned. Grimacing against my alarm piercing through the room. "Sleep… no.. my precious sleep. Betrayed."

I wanted to burrow back into the warmth and darkness of my sheets and escape the treacherous noise but I reeled back to when I laid here last just yesterday, lethargic and hopeless and I forced myself to my feet. The room swayed a little before I found my balance and stumbled to the clock beside my bed. I lifted my head after switching it off and jumped.

" _Wah,_ " I yelped, gathering myself from the electric tremor that pulsed through me and leaned against my cushions. Clenching my heart. "Oh jeez."

After catching my breath I glared at the disheveled and half dead reflection loosely gazing at me above the nightstand. "It's gunna take a real trooper to wake up to that every morning and not run."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. It helped a little with the sleep but not much. It kept me stimulated at least. "What a dream."

What a memory was a more fitting term. I hadn't thought back to it in years. That was one of the best days we had, because we followed it up with movies and a sleepover. And Joyce made us waffles for dinner. It was one of our best sleepovers too, Chloe was so happy to have me over even though I slept over every other day. She came to my house the rest of the time. We were almost never apart and she always grinned and cracked jokes and so did I but mine were never as funny as hers. Chloe always laughed though like a good best friend. Sometimes I thought they were so real she'd tickle me pink and I'd grin for hours knowing I made her cackle that hard.

I gathered my sheets back onto my bed and a flimsy film whittled to the ground. A big black pirate hat waited for me when I knelt to pick up the photo and when I brought it to eye level Chloe beamed up at me, glowing. Her smile was always like the sun to me, and her eyes were also because they burned with life. The sun made seeds grow and flowers bloom and it made everything feel warm and soft and Chloe did all of it even through the photograph. Eyepatch and all. It was one of those cheap costume ones we got for halloween once. It got itchy if we wore it too long. Chloe raised hell to get her dad to get it for her. But it never took much to get him to do anything. Chloe mostly just had to ask, and even in her wildest moments, she never did more than furiously tease him.

My heart felt like electric wire wrapped around it and squeezed and I winced. "Today Chloe. I promise. I just gotta figure out how I can reach you."

Which was a pathetic excuse to be honest. I knew where she lived, and where Joyce worked and if neither of them moved in the five years I went Castaway and lost contact with every form of civilization from my past life then I could march up to either one of those and say, "Hey Chloe look! I found my way back on the face of the earth and waited three whole months to tell you, forgive me? Yay! Put your eyepatch on we're going sailing."

She's going to kill me.

I groaned, collapsing back on my bed. I'm so so _so_ dead. Where do I even start? What do I even say? My insides got all burbled and I grabbed my whole face in frustration. I need more time to think this through. It's been less than thirty…?-I looked at my clock-less than thirty minutes into the day and I already made up most of my mind to put this off until tomorrow. I _needed_ more time.

"Ugh, no! Bad Max, that's how procrastination starts." that's how three months starts.

But still, five years was a long time. Chloe could've forgotten about me by now, or developed a burning hatred of me. Though honestly the first one plucked a little harder on my feelings than the last one. Ouch. Why did I have to get back in contact with her anyway, why should I want to?

' _Because you'd be a major dirtwad if you just stick around without letting your bestfriend know.'_

I winced. Former best friend.. Possibly. Sadly? She was the closest friend I ever had. I didn't feel as comfortable around anyone else as I did with Chloe, even now.

Sadly then.

And I _did_ want to reach out to her. To at least apologize. She deserved that much. At least to hear me call myself shitty a couple hundred times because it's true. She needed me when I left, and I just disappeared.

Sigh.

No, putting this off until tomorrow is just not going to fly. But strolling up to her house wouldn't either, my guts were way too noodly for that. Her house would have to be the _last_ resort. But how would I find her number? I doubted Chloe would be in the phonebooks… her house phone probably would be… crap.. _Calling_ her house? Ugh.. would that make me more of a tool or less?

"Calling her cell sure isn't going to do much to gloss your shittiness either."

I sighed, and literally the end of the world fell out with it. If she'd agree, I'd have to ask her to meet up.

"I have to find a phonebook."

* * *

Kate's room always smelled like eucalyptus. Which is funny because she brewed different teas every morning unless I put in a special request or she was in the mood for the same one twice. She always started the tea before I got there.

One: because I got up late sometimes and Kate rose early as it is.  
And Two: because she knew I loved coming in to her room saturated with it.

Every day she invited me in I'd push through the cold dorm hall and into a cloud of warm jasmine or hibiscus or cinnamon. I think her father sent her assorted teas from back home. I usually walked in right when the tea was ready and a tuft of steam danced up from the kettle in the corner right by the door.

Whichever kind she brewed the tea always went well with her rich green walls. I helped her paint it a little while ago and I could still smell the chemicals. Principal Wells said it was okay as long as we painted it back by the end of the year when we graduated. The thought made my heart hurt, the color was so perfect for Kate's room.

Unlike mine Kate didn't hang her work up on her walls except for the couple framed ones above her bed and next to her desk. All her finished work were filed up in a neat little brown portfolio that she'd fish out sometimes to share with me. She tucked her easel up in the other corner next to her computer. Some unfinished paintings were usually clipped there, drying or waiting for her to return. It was my favorite part of her room, I could tell she spent most of her time there, from the paint stained newspaper spread under it and the color splattered stripes all over the easel itself. I took a photo of it, with and without Kate, and hung it on my wall.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind."

Kate said, handing me my steaming cup and rolling closer in her computer chair. "Well, a lot more than just photography anyway."

I frowned a little as I sipped, the steam moist against my face and my fingers were warm. "Photography isn't the only thing in my life." I defended. "I think about other things."

Kate grinned, amused. "Yea? Like what?"

I opened my mouth to answer.

…

"Air."

"Air.."

I tried a smile. "I like the wind."

Kate blinked, a wide good-natured grin taking her face. "Right." she said, giggling then sipping.

"I.. I did have something else on my mind today though. Would you happen to know where I could find an updated print of the phonebook?"

"The only place I could think of is the General Store. The market doesn't print them anymore, or you could try the library. The one in town not on campus. The campus library doesn't have any phone books."

I nodded, great. I could try the general store first. I was on my last bundle of films mom and dad packed me off with and the General Store was the last place I remember selling any. I'd have to go there after classes are over.

"Trying to get in touch with someone?"

I blinked. "Huh? Oh, yea. Chloe Price. My best friend. Well.. she was. Until I sucked one day and left her behind. I'm kind of nervous about it." by nervous I meant horrified.

"I see. Did you want me to come with you? To find the phonebook, I mean."

"No that's fine, I wouldn't want to disrupt your bible study."

"You're not disrupting at all. We actually rescheduled for tomorrow because the lead got sick. I was going to work on my paintings, got struck with a great idea this morning."

"Then I definitely don't want to take you away from that, Kate. But thanks for offering. You _definitely_ have to show me when you're done."

"Always, Max." Kate beamed. "We should work on something together one day, it'd be great."

"Definitely."

* * *

When Warren caught wind that I was planning on leaving campus for the first time in three months I had to come up with major excuses for him not to come. He ran on and on about taking me out on the town and showing me what's changed. Which was most likely nothing-which _is_ nothing from what I'd seen of it. And he wouldn't stop rambling about taking me to all the 'cool' places…. Which I did not recall ever existing growing up. He'd only drag me off to go who knows where until just before the sun went down and I really needed to contact Chloe today before I lost my nerve and got sucked back into my shell like an imprisoned turtle. The General Store was.. Dusty. More in the rhetorical sense seeing that every flat surface was glossy clean and even the wooden cashier counter was polished. Everything looked top notch and neat, like it was eager to be touched. To be _moved_. The old bald man watching the shop only greeted me with a grunt and continued with his little radio pouring jazz into the air. I kind of liked this place. Like it was hidden away, I used the last film I had on the man and his radio.

His store had everything. Which was ironic considering it seemed like most of its existence was spent empty. But I found _everything_ here. Tall towering aisles of Notebooks and utensils and crafts supplies and chips and hardware tools and candles and animal collars and canned goods. This place was full of all sorts of stuff, why weren't more people in it? Though I wasn't complaining. I liked that it was empty. Quiet, _peaceful_. Everywhere else felt excessively populated. Even if only _one_ person shared my space. Even if I saw someone pass by, too small and too far to even make out a face. Maybe I'm an eternal douche for it. But I just liked not being around people.

I found the photo films in the very last aisle, in the back of the store behind the home hardware supplies on the other side. Which was surprising on its own. I hadn't known certain things that counted as home hardware until I passed through it. There were weatherproof ponchos there, and sewing kits. And needles for tattoos in a little plastic kit that said _'Inkredibility!'_ across the top. That one made my eyebrows raise. Intense. I don't think I'd want to be tatted by anyone who'd gotten their tattoo supplies out of here. Or anywhere really because my skin's as sensitive as wet paper.

" _Ooh_ , hundred bundle!" I marveled, fishing up the hefty, generously sized box and heaving under the weight. My arms were noodles, there was no way I'd take this home by myself. "Downsize." I told myself, and set it down with a strong thud and picked up the 50 pack instead. It was a little weighty, but I could manage.

I checked the price, $70. _Wowzers_ , that's just out of this world.

 _Thank you scholarship_. I said to myself as I thought about the hundred dollar bill in my pocket. Now to find a phonebook. The shop door jingled and the jazz music cut off with a scratchy squeal. The man's old chair squeaked against the tiled floor as he roared from the front of the store.

"Oh no no! You're not allowed here anymore!" it ricocheted through the store so profound it actually shook me. I heard footsteps patter across the floor unhindered and a distant scoff splatted through the aisles.

"Bite me old man, you haven't had any customers since the Cold War and you're so hopped up to kick me out?"

My heartbeat was still subsiding from the shopkeep's outburst and my knees actually buckled, but the second voice managed to shake me even more. It burned like fire. Lashing and wild and-even with three aisles separating me from it-gushing out heat that threatened to devour anything that touched it. My heart jump-started when I heard the steps approaching, from closer up I picked up on clinking metal. Like boots. Oh shit, forbidden trespasser storming straight for me. Be cool Max, she's not going to just walk up and decide to punch you in the face for just being here.

"Get _out_ kid you ain't stealing from my shop anymore," his voice approached, her steps approached and now his loafers were pounding across the store right up behind her. I silently praised that the aisles were so tall because I did _not_ know how to handle this.

"No I _ain't_ stealing from your shop anymore," the woman-girl-retorted, sharp and hot and angry. Her voice was flame, heating my skin like it was pressed against me and I shrugged away from it. How much shit must she have gone through to sound like that? To sound my age, and yet sound like that? Her words bounced across the other side of my aisle and I might've passed out in my head. All the films hung up on my side vibrated with her heat. I heard rummaging. "What makes you so sure I'm not buying this shit off you?"

"You never buy! Get out of my shop!"

"Yo, you're hella psyched old man, go take an Advil and play some bingo before you give yourself a hernia."

From sheer stupidity-because it _definitely_ wasn't courage-I willed enough nerve to slide my head past the edge of the aisle to peak over.

The old man seethed, bulbous and livid. His temple throbbed and his face twisted in sharp disdain. I caught a jacket sleeve; worn ebony leather cuffed at the end by bracelets and a pale hand and blue nail polish. The man roared after her even as she slunk off to the other end of the aisle, rummaging through something else and returning.

"I'm calling the police if you don't get out of my shop. And if I find _anything_ missing, I'm sending them after your ass,"

Laughter bubbled out then, but it was twisted, tainted, and hot, like her words. Marred, somehow. I shrunk back into my aisle when fierce blue hair flashed past and a gust of burnt cigarettes hit my nose.

 _Gross._

"I saw you pocket those needles you little shit, put them down and get the fuck out of my shop!"

Even her walk was hell. Searing and sharp. Like you'd bleed if you brushed her and the wound would sting like alcohol, but something else lurked in her gate too. Something I couldn't place. She nearly passed the register, only a few feet from the exit when the man looked back and spotted me.

"I'm calling the cops and I'm getting your ass locked up and I got a _witness_ now!" he roared and the thin woman flinched but she didn't freeze. Her slender shoulders bristled and the pale hands at her sides balled up. The nicks on her jacket were a wounded canvas and the tears in her tight jeans were testament to how sharp she could be. She spun, face of flames chiseled sharp with a burning glare that sliced right through me. My heart seized.

Fuck, when did I get this far out of the aisle?

My throat closed up, and steel blue eyes reared up to attack.

Shit shit.

Then they froze and flickered.

"Max?"

" _Max?" Chloe said, and when I got myself to look, the sun beamed down on me through happy eyes and grinned really big. "Come on Max, you gotta keep up if you're gunna be my First Mate!"_

What the fuck?

"Who-...Chloe?"

But was it Chloe? She looked like wildfire.

"What the- you _know_ this delinquent?" the man demanded, turning on me. His rage boiling. He could've been seething but I didn't catch any of it. Too caught up in this unfamiliar image I couldn't put into focus.

No way, no _way_ was this Chloe.

" _Nobody_ in connection with this criminal is allowed in my shop."

Blue eyes watched me, hard like ice but they melted a little. Softened by recognition and disbelief and a lot of other stuff that flashed too quickly to catch. I felt like she could've scorched me bare until my clothes felt useless. And she probably would have if not for the incredulity in her stare. Her mind started racing. I could only tell because her eyebrows puckered in the middle like they always did. Her body went lax and I watched as the flames in her eyes receded into wide, doe eyed shock.

" _You!_ " it hit me like a gust of needled air, and the loud, flashing stare broke away from me. "You, get the hell out of my shop too,"

"What, I didn't do anything!"

"You _know_ this girl! That's _all_ you had to do. You ain't suckering me again I've lost enough money from the likes of manipulative little girls like you!"

He stomped toward me, a wall of vibrating rage. He mostly overshadowed Chloe but I saw enough of her to catch her shaking her head. Her eyes fluttering as her face pinched into forced focus. She didn't look at us, eyes and mind somewhere else.

"Sir I only came to buy photo sheets for school."

Hard eyes found me again, still shadowed with shock but Chloe was slightly more coherent. The shopkeep steadied himself to start yelling again, but Chloe stormed over and yanked him by the arm.

"Hey man, you're hella overreacting. I don't even know this chick." Chloe said, still not sounding completely here. But she put a lot of lead in her voice and it was enough to make me shy away. "I thought she was someone else."

The man turned on her. "Don't bullshit me."

Every inch of her face sharpened to a deadly point and I just wanted to leave. Why? Why did everything have to be so loud and stressful and hostile?

"Just let her buy her shit old man. She has nothing to do with me."

"She knows you. She has everything to do with you."

They stared each other down- _glared_ each other down-for ages while I kept busy feeling itchy in my own skin and confused and overwhelmed. Eventually Chloe sighed, but it was sharp and her whole face drowned in agitation.

"Fuck, _here_ then." Chloe snapped. Yanking something out of her jacket. She slammed what sounded like glass on the counter and amazingly it didn't shatter. But it sloshed. The shopkeep eyed every move as Chloe jammed her fist in her other pocket and held up a plastic square between her fingers, gaze flickering to me then to the man. My eyes fell to the floor and zeroed in on her aged black boots, the buckles at the top were loose. She held the plastic out to him and the metal inside glistened, he reached up to grab it and she cannoned it past him with such disdain most of my flinch had nothing to do with the fact that she threw it in my direction. It slid at me, spinning before it stopped and I read the fiery wording at the top, upside down: _'Inkredibility!'_

"Now chill your shit, old man. Just let her buy her stuff." she caught my stare again and the flames were recovering. "She's not here with me."

" _Get out_ ,"

Chloe clicked her tongue and chopped him down with her stare and walked away.

"Fuck off."

The entrance door jingled in her wake.

 **xx**

 **Thanks for stopping by guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed!** **Thanks for the critique! I wanted Mrs. Davies to be real whacky character, one that stretched the normal form of behavior since there were so many heavy elements in the game (which were beautifully done I'm not hating) I just wanted someone/something that would break up and shake the melancholy. Also I had a question on whether or not this is a Pricefield fic. I haven't read any fics regarding LIS and just came to put my own little story up but through the summaries I skimmed through I'd imagine there are some people who prefer not to read Pricefield and some who do. Now, I DO have an answer to your question my friend but I'm still debating on whether or not to disclose it as the anticipation of whether or not Max and Chloe were going to be a thing was really what made the growth and fruition of their relationship really enjoyable to me. But at the same time I don't want to waste anyone's time who may be or may not be into it. Still debating! Gotta make up my mind, I'm sorry! (not on my decision but on whether to let you know about it). But I WILL say that there IS going to be same sex romance in this fic so anyone disdained to it, go on ahead and move on.**

 **Lastly, I've got a very distinct direction I'm planning on taking this fic and I'm going to be shining light and adding light on our favorite girls in the direction I'm planning on taking them. My fics going to take from the original traits in the game but also to add some of my own and chopping off what I don't like to create my Own story. I'm real excited for where it's gunna be going and I hope you enjoy the ride. Have a great day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Attention! For the few who read the original third chapter before I took it down, I had to make some changes. Sorry for those who read it and feel a bit like you're rereading. But this one's different in a lot of ways. The fourth chapter's up right behind it though. Thanks for stopping by, have a Great day and Enjoy!**

 **xx**

It felt like I took days to get back into gear. The shopkeep didn't bother returning to his register. He just stood there between me and the door, eyeing me down.

"You too." he barked at me, and it shook me from my stupor. "Get out."

What?

I looked down at my box of sheets, juggling it in my arms. How did I manage not to drop this? It might've been the shock.

"But sir, I need these photo sheets."

"I don't give a care what you need. Find them somewhere else."

"You're the only shop in Arcadia Bay that sells these kinds of sheets. "

He didn't listen to me, only stormed off behind his counter and slammed his hands down on the surface. "Ain't my problem kid."

"Are you seriously going to just kick me out like this? I didn't even do anything wrong."

"You know that girl-"

"Yea but I'm not _with_ her." I felt my face getting hot and it spilled down to my arms. I didn't like being so angry, especially toward someone I didn't know. I felt like I was falling out of my skin and my heart pounded. "I haven't seen her in a long time, it's not fair that you'd just kick me out of here for something out of my control. It's not _my_ fault she was stealing from you I didn't bring her here!"

He only kept glaring at me, but it was frayed on the edges, hesitation lurking under them.

"I don't know what yours and Chloe's deal is but I just came here to get my sheets. Just please let me buy these. I can't pass the year without them."

He just stood there for forever. Glaring at me and then at the ground and then at something else. And the clock pounded the whole time, echoing around the room while I trembled in my shoes and did my best to muffle my heaving. I never demanded anything from people, and even this was nothing more than hopeless desperation, but I felt super uncomfortable and all I wanted to do was get the hell out of here.

The man finally sighed, and the anger on his face dissolved. "Alright." he said, anchoring himself on his counter. "Alright fine. Hurry up and buy it. Then get lost."

 _Yes!_

I hoped he couldn't see it but I wanted to jump up and do a fist pump or scream or cry or _something_ because the relief and joy that washed over me was too much to keep in. I managed though, and only a real little real _happy_ squeak came out of me. I nodded furiously at him and nearly dashed for the counter, hitting Chloe's plastic pouch of needles on the way. The shiny rods _twinkled_ with a little sound and for a minute I just stared at it, and I felt the man's gaze burning into me the whole time. I picked it up and set it down beside the tiny jars she left behind when I reached his counter. And when I set down my box of 50 bundle photo sheets the jars danced with the sudden weight, strong colors of deep red and rich blues and greens and orange and yellow. Each jar no taller than my thumb and maybe twice as wide; tattoo inks.

The man told me my total for the sheets and I handed him the crisp hundred in my pocket, scouring the empty parking lot outside for any signs of Chloe. But it looked just as secluded as it did in here except it was kind of warm in here and smelled faintly of coffee and mothballs when outside smelled like sea salt from the nearby shore and offered cracked concrete instead of tile floors and threw out the beginning shades of a waning day. But no Chloe. Still absolutely no sign of Chloe.

The man counted out my bills in his hand and the paper fluttered like bird wings in my ear. A newspaper skimmed across the lot outside like a dying butterfly and I got hot all over and my skin started itching and I wanted the man to count faster. I looked down at Chloe's compromised loot and tilted my head. Chloe did tattoos now? Never would've thought. But then again I hadn't predicted fierce blue hair, a tat sleeve, and a glare that made your insides curdle in her future either. So much had changed.

Was that really Chloe?

I looked up at the man-he glanced at me in intervals-I looked at Chloe's stuff again.

"Would my hundred cover these too?" I asked, pushing them at him.

He stopped counting and conflict surfaced in him. "You're making it hard to let you buy from here."

"She obviously needs them for something." I reasoned. "If I don't buy them now, she's only going to come back for them. And you _won't_ be getting paid."

"You sound like you know her an awful lot for someone who hasn't seen her in a while."

I flinched, breaking away from the man's gaze. "We were close once. I can't say much about how she is now but if part of her is still the same as she was when we were kids I know she's not giving up until she gets what she came here for."

"Then that little shit can pay for it like everybody else."

"She's _not_ going to do that." I insisted. "Look, I need to be able to come back here for when I run out of film again. Chloe needs these." I said, looking down at all the equipment. "And I need to prove to you that I'm not here on some tricky teenager stuff. Just let me pay for it."

He stared at me for a while, the pinch between his bushy eyebrows taunting me. "Fine. I haven't had any customers since that girl's hair used to be brown-"

"Chestnut."

"What?"

I blinked. "Her hair was chestnut."

"Whatever. If she comes in here again you're not getting anymore sheets from me."

"But I can't make her not come here,"

"Ain't my problem. Keep her away, or you're just gunna have to fail. Your total's 99.95. You get a nickel back.

I kept my eyes down. "Keep it."

The shopkeeper bagged up my things and handed it to me. I gave him a weak thanks and sulked out. The bell jingled and the wind stroked my cheeks when he said, "And kid, if I find anything's missing I'm calling the cops. You ain't peeved me yet so I'll leave you out of it. But she's been a pain in my back for too long."

I debated just walking off without acknowledging him, but I forced myself to nod and left and something withered in me as I let the door ring shut. The wind grabbed me up immediately, sending my hair flying all around and stroking against me. It helped a little, like it lifted the feeling away before it could settle for too long. It turned out the parking lot _wasn't_ completely empty, and a monstrous truck sat all the way in the furthest corner of it, closest to the street. My heart clenched, and my throat shrunk into a froot loop.

Oh crap.

I wasn't one hundred percent, but I was pretty darn sure. That was Chloe's truck.

The walk over felt like miles, and like I did it under a microscope. I couldn't see her, and she probably wasn't even looking, but every move felt like a giant clunky one and my footsteps sounded like landslides in my ears. The wind kept me company and was probably what helped me dare the treacherous journey to the truck but when I got close enough to it I noticed a thin wisp of smoke dancing up from the other side. And my heart seized. If it could squeak like those doggy toys it would've done that too but the squeak just came out of my mouth instead.

Crap Crap Crap.

I made out her boots underneath the cab, crossed at the ankles and tapping. I couldn't see anything else though, the rest of her hidden behind her truck.

'Used' was a light way to describe it. If I could crumple a piece of paper and squish it real good and sprinkle some of Kate's beige paints all over it and pull it open again, it'd look like what I looked at now. It took some effort and a lot of pep talk to push the last yards to her back tire but once I reached it her bright blue spikes peeked out from behind the cab and I squeaked again. Thankfully not too audibly.

I saw enough to catch her head turn and a pale cheek and some long lashes and a soft eyebrow turned to me. The whole myriad shocked me into incoherent stupidity but the soft eyebrow oddly soothed me for some reason. They were still shaped the same.

At least the one was.

It was probably lame for me to say.

But I hid there for a while.

It was weird freaking out over Chloe, I never did in the past. Never in this way anyway. Usually I bounced in my shoes and rushed to go meet her at the door, or wanted to jump out of dad's car to dash to hers. Knowing she was near electrified me with excitement, but what I felt now was overwhelmingly reminiscent to anxiety. But then again the chick I glimpsed now wasn't exactly the chestnut haired, shiny faced girl I used to run to as a kid who'd spot me coming and come alive with this bright smile that felt like the sun on my face. Seeing Chloe then meant movie nights and adventures and Joyce's bacon and eggs for dinner _and breakfast_ -because we were greedy and because I loved when the house got all warm from the stove and smelled so good our mouths watered and when the kitchen chirped with popping oil.

Now-Chloe didn't feel like that. Now-Chloe didn't promise all nighters or popcorn in the living room or going to bed with stomach aches from too much laughing. She didn't greet me with a cheesy punchline or clomp me with a wall of bubble gum shampoo when she hugged me.

Now-Chloe burned like hellfire and smelled like cigarettes and looked like sunshine lit aflame that was coated blue. Now-Chloe leaned against the side of a truck under a trail of smoke and clicked her boots. Her eyelashes were still long though, and her eyebrows still arched the same way. They were thinner though, and I kind of missed how full they used to be.

"You know I can see you right?"

I became a human doggy toy then, and the squeak I gave this time around was undeniably audible and I was coherent enough to catch a hard stare, piercing me like a bullet. I think my whole body flushed, if that was possible. I know just my face couldn't contain all the embarrassment that spilled through me. Her stare was like a slap and a command. Impatiently asking me _what the fuck_ I wanted, even though I didn't say anything. I shrunk behind the truck so not even her beanie peaked through.

"You haven't been this shy to see me since the first time we met." Chloe said around the truck. Silence briefly settled, and then a pop and then a gust of smoke rose up above the truck.

Was it too late for me to run? She really seemed like she didn't want to be bothered.

I didn't know how much time passed, could've been a year for all I care.

"Is Max coming out to play or do I have to count to 10 and look for you?"

It took a while for me to pull my crap together and shove into sight. It took Chloe's gaze to latch onto me and I knew the exact moment because my body caught fire.

"There she is." Chloe said, and it was jagged. But she was struggling with something and it spilled through her eyes. She was already pissed, but she looked extra pissed.

Chloe pulled from her smoke and for a second _three_ glowing embers stared at me. "So she lives. I'd have bet my place in hell I'd never see your face again."

She blew out a gray wall of fumes that made me cough. I caught her smirk as I batted it away.

"This is bonkers."

"And she speaks." Chloe proclaimed like a triumphant observation. She pushed off of her truck and strolled over to me. "I could tell you couldn't recognize me for shit." her voice thickened with pride.

It reminded me of when she used to freak about growing another inch. Except she was happier about it and less pissed. _"Ha! Good luck catching up, Max. You'll never get as tall as me."_ She always got super pleased about that.

"You look so different."

"You look the same." Chloe said, walking up and examining me. I grimaced at her lit cigarette but she didn't notice. "I mean you look older. But the doe-eyed stare, the cluelessness and the clammy posture. That's Classic Max. Caulfield in the flesh."

I gaped, feeling the frown before I could fight it down. As soon as she saw it a tiny smirk cut up her face and I sighed from relief.

 _Life_. I drank in that microscopic glimpse like a drop of water in a desert.

"I don't know what to say to that."

"What do you want to say?"

I hesitated. "Fuck you."

Her face cracked, and slits of humor peaked past the rage like a messed up canvas with light shining out of it. And it was weird s heck to look at but it thawed my muscles out enough to stop aching. I breathed easier, but I felt weirder too.

"Just say that then. But it's gunna take some work to get in these pants, Max. I'm not easy to get in the sack. "

"Ugh, _gross._ " a rusty snicker came out of her, like old metal being bent. The rage dissolved a little until I could see the humor better, and it helped me feel less clunky.

Chloe took her last puff and stomped her cigarette out. "Let's ditch this shithole. Dude's totally watching us right now."

I jumped at the thought, eager to follow as she climbed in the truck but something clicked in my head and I hesitated. Chloe looked at me through her open window. "You comin, Maxi pad?"

I smacked my lips at her before I could stop myself and I scowled but I think it came across as a pout. I always sucked at aggression. Mirth gathered in her eyes again and it was weird. Even her happy expressions looked wrong. Like someone took them all and put them under a moody filter mixed with sarcasm, anger and sadness.

I worried about what the guy would think, watching us drive off right outside of his store. But I bought Chloe's stuff for her, it only made sense I'd talk to her. I could already feel the rush of possibilities starting to race so I just shook my head and hopped in. Because I did not have time to overthink anything right now.

Chloe's tires screeched against the concrete when she pulled out.

"So what's up, you came back to spend your senior year at Blackwell? That photography program had Max written all over it. How is it? Still a shithole? "

"I like it."

"Of course you do."

"How do you know I'm going to Blackwell?"

It meant a lot that she still remembered what grade I'm in. Remembering that I'm one year younger probably wasn't the biggest task but it'd been five years and Chloe looked like she went through a lot during them and she didn't even have to think about it.

"The Bay talks. That hasn't changed, like everything else."

"And it knows I'm in the photography program?"

"No, but I do. You had a hella photo fetish when we were kids, only makes sense."

I knew she didn't mean anything by it, especially not anything remotely corny. But it tickled me so pink and even though she hardly smiled and mostly frowned at the road I felt the widest grin creaking up my face until my cheeks started pinching. Chloe spotted it when she looked over because of my silence and her face soured and she grimaced and she shooed me away with a flimsy hand.

"Christ, can you not gush in here this baby's hella fragile."

" _Ok_."I squeaked, still grinning like crazy. I tried busying myself by moving the plastic bag on my lap but it didn't do anything. I tried tugging my smile back into a line. Took some deep breaths.

I saw Chloe's head turn in my peripheral. I glanced over to her examining me. Two seconds of her gaze combing my face and a snort came out of her.

"Try a little harder, Max." she suggested and the resisted laughter in her voice made it warmer despite her obvious protest to it and it made me feel funny. Shock and nostalgia were a weird combination. Now-Chloe sat beside me but young Chloe still swam in there and she peeked out a lot, like a vision under troubled water.

"Sorry." I muttered, mostly because I didn't know what else to say.

I got a scoff back, and I didn't look at her but I could tell she was shaking her head. "Still the same." I heard her say but she was glancing out the window.

The 50 bundle started digging into my thighs so I shifted it. I must've looked uncomfortable because Chloe looked over and suggested I stick it on the floor. So I did and I had to sweep aside some beer bottles and trash before I could.

"By the way I got the stuff you were trying to.. You know."

Chloe's gaze flickered on the road and she twitched a bodily response I didn't understand. "Thanks, I was running low on my shit."

"You do tattoos now?"

Chloe shrugged. "A girl's gotta make a living. Doesn't get much but it's something."

"And you do people that live around _here_?" the only people I could think of that lived in Arcadia Bay were washed up fishermen and hard working parents and the truckers that came by during their routes into the bigger cities. People never really stayed here. And the ones that came by were always just passing through. Who could Chloe possibly land a tattoo gig with-here-of all places?

"Well them and others. If I can snag a couple truckers I'll get what I can but they usually want something more official than a punk with a convenience store machine. But that's what the little teenies are for. Arcadia Bay's oozing with fucked up adolescents just begging to make an irreversible, potentially regrettable, physically altering decision. That's when I swoop in."

"That's kind of fucked up Chloe."

"It's kind of life Max." Chloe countered, glancing at me. "I can't stock up on cash by sitting my ass around doing nothing. And I wouldn't be caught dead bagging groceries at the market or shit like that. I'm my _own_ boss."

She inflated at the last part, sounding really pleased.

It was actually kind of cool. I could never picture Chloe doing conventional jobs growing up, mostly because she pummeled it out of my head any chance she got.

' _I'm tellin' you Max,_ nobody's _gunna tell me what to do. I'm gunna do my own thing. And you can take pictures of everything and put it up on your, wall or something.'_

Knowing Chloe ran her own tattoo scheme without anybody's help put me in awe. Like getting to know someone that cool made me really lucky.

"So, _boss_.." I started, and Chloe grinned and I felt myself smile too because I think she did it despite herself. "Is poorly executed shoplifting part of the business routine?"

"Can't run a shitshow without inventory."

"Why couldn't you just buy it? I thought you made money."

"Not a _lot_ of money. Like I said. A bunch of teens in a town smaller than the universe's asshole don't bring in much. I'm just lucky my machine isn't fucked yet or I'd be screwed. I have to save every scrap of change I can get my hands on anyway if I'm trying to get out of here quicker."

That poked a hole in me.

"And go where?"

"Anywhere." Chloe said. Glancing at me and her eyes were hard. "I'm going wherever my RV takes me once I can afford one, but L.A.'s my first stop."

"Why L.A.?"

A shadow passed over her.

"Planned to start there not too long ago." Her words were heavy and covered us like smog. Like they were soaked in gallons worths of unmentioned. "Plus people are hella wild in L.A., know how to party. And I'd probably get some decent cash over there. Angsty teens by the thousands itching to make stupid decisions."

"And tattoo artist Chloe'll be there to irreversibly save the day?"

Chloe looked over and perked a thin eyebrow at me. She grinned a little bit but even that little twitch felt like it could slice me. "Fuck yea. I'd have to establish a client list first but I could do it. And I can bum some broke dropouts off Venice for a while til I figure out what else I wanna do. Doubt tattooing'll be a lifetime thing. I'll probably get bored of it later."

I looked away. It wasn't exactly a morally sound plan, but it was a plan. One Chloe sounded prepared to execute. She wasn't as jovial about it like she would've been if we were younger, but where her bright-eyed excitement would've been, laid solid determination. Like freedom sat at the end of the road and she'd get there relentlessly.

And.. I don't know, pummel it or something.

She talked about the future differently when we were kids. Her whole body buzzed and she'd hop around and drag me with her while she bounced and we'd both melt into a fuzzy laughing fit but the sureness of it felt the same. In those days Chloe talked about things with such confidence it was like we were getting up the next day to go and _do_ it. And now that we were older, she could probably do just that. _Was_ doing just that, from how determined she sounded.

Funny, because if _I_ planned anything like that I'd tell myself I was nuts.

' _You're high, Max.'_ I would've said. _'No more brownies for you.'_

"You know it's funny. When Blackwell wouldn't shut up last year about all the new shit they had coming up and the professor they were bringing in for the new photography program I used to joke about you magically materializing out of the blue. Like a little Max fairy showing up just at the mention of photography. Like you could smell it or something."

I crinkled my nose. "Uh smell? That's a bit more like a dog than a fairy."

Chloe shrugged. "Eh, don't know what the fuck fairies do.. Except twinkle.

"I don't think I'd be a really good fairy then. I don't twinkle."

"Yea you do." I didn't know if it was how casually she said it, like a petal she plucked out the breeze-she'd laugh if she knew I said that-or how quickly it followed me but I couldn't make words for a while.

When the silence stretched on Chloe noticed and looked over after she squeaked her truck to a stop at a red light. "Don't get all Modest Max on me. At least the gushy one makes funny faces I can laugh at. If it makes you feel any better it's more of a dorky twinkle. Not like.. Those cheesy bullshit princess twinkles where they're supposed to be all spotless and pretty and shit. I'd punch you if you twinkled like that."

"Yea, feeling way better."

"Dude, you're a dork and it works on you, okay? Compliments may make you constipated but you're just gunna have to deal. You _twinkle_ godamnit now accept it already cuz I can feel my ass dropping glitter just from saying it."

How did this turn into Chloe aggressively commending me?

Sigh.

How did I ever get into half the things Chloe dragged me in?

She's driving me around in a beat old pickup truck that smells like weed and cigarettes and flowers-which was weird-right after she tried stealing from a general store for crying out loud. And I just bought a bunch of ink and needles for some semi-shady side business she's running that's probably illegal for her to do because she's underage and her clients apparently are too.

"... Thank you?"

The light turned green and it took a while before Chloe pushed the gas. She shook her head though. "See? Dork.. Now I have to shower when I get back to my house."

"Hey um, did you want me to give you your things now? I might forget them if I leave them in the bag."

"Just leave em for now. _I_ won't forget them cuz I need em bad. I'll just remind you when we get to Blackwell."

Oh yea. I hadn't even considered where we might've been going. But the road looked familiar now and I barely realized where we were. But good thing, because the day would be ending soon and I didn't know what the consequences were for breaking curfew.

Guess everything flew out of my head when I hopped in the car. Which now that I looked around at it, actually really suited her. The air conditioner most likely didn't work but her radio looked in good shape. Graffiti covered a majority of it and there was an ashtray up on the dashboard guess that's where the weed came from. Everything from the bobble head to the skull stuck to the windshield was worn. And when I took a second look at the truck floor I spotted a fierce blue bottle of hair dye tucked in the corner. The sun coated everything in amber and that could've been why it felt kind of warm in here.

I wanted to take a picture, but I didn't know if Chloe would bite my head off for it. Using twinkle in a sentence probably did things to her emotionally.

"Thanks for the ride by the way." Daylight went in that blaring stage that got fierce before dying. I would've cut it real close if I had to take the bus home. The shop was all the way across town, and even in Chloe's truck speeding toward school I watched the amber sky deepening into red, racing us.

"Whatever. That box looks heavy and if nothing's changed, your noodle arms wouldn't have carried that thing all the way back to Blackwell. Plus unlike you, I like answers in my silences."

"..What?"

Chloe eyed me with a new weight in her gaze, sharpened with absent accusation. And it could've been the setting sun lighting her icy glare aflame but it seared me. "You gunna tell me why my best friend disappeared without a shit to hang onto for five years?"

I couldn't look at her. The sky's glare made her eyes orange in a weird way. Ice on fire, piercing and merciless. The sun was blinding, throwing her shadow at me but even the negative space glared at me. Even when my gaze fell I felt her burning through my skull.

This would be a horrific time to roll the window down. Air came in from hers, but it was hot. Like the wind heated just by touching her and got heavy by the time it reached me.

What was there to say? My throat closed up, like it trapped the truth from coming out. Out of shame? Wouldn't surprise me. The truth was pretty shitty. How could I tell her just like that though? _Right now_? We haven't completely caught up yet, haven't even started.

How could I tell her I _had_ no explanation? Not a valid one. Definitely not one that could justify the shit she probably went through when I dropped her on her face right when she needed me.

I was a shitty friend, with a shitty reason to disappear, who did it in the shittiest way, at the shittiest time.

Chloe's sigh was a tired wind that descended like fog; thick and heavy and plastered to the ground. And it filled the truck the same way. But it wasn't moist or cold. And I couldn't tell if the blaring light or Chloe had to do with it.

"There that shit is. That fucking silence. I might as well be screaming at my empty fucking mailbox. That never brought me answers either."

"Chloe, I'm sorry.."

"Sorry doesn't cut shit, Max. Not five years of it. Why'd you leave man?"

"I didn't _command_ my parents to take me to Seattle!"

The truck skidded to a stop and it shrieked like I never heard. My head jerked and I had to catch myself on her dashboard.

"Bull _shit_ Max, you know damn well that's got shit to do with anything. Your parents took you to Seattle but _you_ chose to leave me behind. Your arm doesn't shrivel up in hives by sending a letter, trust me." my whole chest caved in and my stomach churned. And the light was hot and my eyes burned.

She knew that from personal experience. I didn't know when Chloe stopped writing, after the first few letters I didn't even open them anymore. And anything coming in the mail became the plague. I couldn't imagine why she even started after catching wind that I changed my number.

Freaking _asshole_ , Max.

"You disappeared on me dude." Chloe accused, voice turning a cold color but I didn't dare look up. What would I see anyway but a blazing sun? "Growing up I thought _I_ would be the asshole."

"You're not, I'm the asshole. A huge huge asshole."

"No you're worse than that." I didn't know why it cut me so deep. If it was saturated in rage it might have gone down easier. Would've felt like she was still passionate about it, like it was still hot and alive like her anger. But these words were cold. Like the burn of hot molten lava cooled off years ago and this emotion became of it. Formed and settled for a long time, solidified like stone, a permanent structure. She was disappointed in me and it wouldn't budge.

I couldn't look at her. The shame made my head too heavy and I was too scared of what I might see. It wouldn't be flames, and I think cold and dormant resolution would've been worse to watch than anger. At least her fury was _alive_ , it writhed and breathed. But this felt fossilized.

"You can leave my shit on the floor. It's just gunna end up there by the time I get to where I'm going."

"Chloe-"

"I'm not trying to get another ticket, Max. Don't need another reason to avoid the cops."

I hadn't realized we made it back until I spotted students passing by and laughing. Colored orange from the sun and hair shining like copper. Chloe stopped in the bus zone, and I heard it gusting up behind us. I wanted to tell her something or say something at least. But I mostly wanted to ask her something; will I see you again?

But what a bold question to ask, and full of nerve. I didn't have the right to ask it. I couldn't gather my thoughts quick enough to do it anyway because the bus towered behind us, roaring. And an angry horn blared out and shattered what was left of my flimsy concentration. I scrambled out of Chloe's truck with the wobbly grace of a baby deer. My 50 bundle gashed against my thigh but the pain that exploded went right past me and I barely spun around when her wheels shrieked against the pavement and she vanished in a gust of smog and fuel.

 **xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Enjoy, sweethearts.**

 **xx**

Arcadia Bay didn't have much in the way of car variety and make. Most of them were minivans or wagons or whatever kind of car mostly designed for families. I wouldn't be able to name them, and I'm mostly certain 'wagon' wasn't even a term. Big bulky vans mostly cruised up and down the streets carrying children or parents coming home from work and _on their way_ to picking up the children or grabbing groceries or taking little league soccer players to the park. I could count every two out of four from the flow of traffic passing past the road in front of Blackwell on normal days but for some reason almost all of the cars that passed by now were pickup trucks. The bright and shiny ones or the older, smoother ones or the shoddy loud ones and some of them had glossy paint and others had calmer ones and the people inside differed too. The younger ones were usually in the shiny ones.

I could still count on one hand how many family vans passed by since I started watching and yet none of the big pickup trucks cruising by snarled like the wild beast Chloe drove me in yesterday. None of them gave off thick gusts of smoke and none of them looked like a balled up paper ball painted in sand. No ashtrays no graffiti no weird black suited bobble head on the dashboard. And no blaring sun manning the creaky wheel and stomping the pedal to the floor.

I held my chin in my hands, pressing my lips with my fingers until eventually I nibbled on them. My whole body fidgeted with my tapping legs jutting up at the knees like little mountains. Even with the few yards distance from the campus lawn to the road the trucks looked real big from the ground. Real big and frustratingly unfamiliar.

Ugh.

She hates me. Chloe totally hates me. Of course she does why shouldn't she? I ditched her and then came back and secretly considered trying to supersneak this last year at Blackwell without talking to her at all. Although I didn't dare tell her that. Barely even admitted it to myself. And I still hadn't given her a reason why I disappeared and I definitely didn't have enough guts to tell her but I still wanted to see her. As fucked up and bold as that was, knowing my aversion to my own best friend and trying to have nothing to do with her until I was free from Blackwell and could fly off to whatever decent University I could hopefully get into with the recommendations I planned to gather and just return to being that one best friend she knew once when we were kids.

Actually acknowledging that really is fucked up. Max you're an asshole.

 _Oh my gosh I'm an asshole_.

I went out to look for a phonebook but would I have even called? No.. of course not. I'm SuperMax, or Super- _Lax(itive)_ because my guts were mushier than overdone mashed potatoes. Of course I wouldn't have called. Who was I kidding?

So now I'm Super-Ass too because after all that I have the nerve to be growing restless at the thought of not seeing Chloe before the day ended. I already sat through-or _zoned_ through-my first three classes and only Photography was left. But how outrageous could I be? To skip out on her right after her dad _died_ and force her to go through five years of nothing before ever seeing my face again and then sit here nearly jumping out of my shoes to resolve what we left unfinished after she _rightfully_ stormed off on me and left me hanging only on that image for not even one whole _day_.

Chloe must've had books worths of things she wanted answered and probably even more of things she wanted to say. Or scream, or beat into me. Five whole years of unresolved emotions and questions I made her wait through and I couldn't even handle half a day.

 _You're a jerk, Max. A total giant jerkbag._

Maybe it was best if Chloe didn't show up. There wasn't even the slightest chance that she would and even if I could dare come near her house to apologize I didn't think I had the right. I definitely didn't have the right. I let her down. Any kind of contact between us now had to be on her terms. She certainly didn't have any say in it five years ago. Maybe I could write her a letter though. To at least apologize. She deserved that much. And if she never responded that'd be fine. I wouldn't ask for any less. I'd have to go to that General store again though.

 _Shudder_.

I'll just try the public library this time to see if I can get my hands on a phonebook.

A phonebook.

Are we using that excuse again?

No seriously. I didn't know if Chloe wanted to see my face after that. She always liked her space whenever she got upset when we were kids. She'd storm off or push me away if I tried to make her feel better. It was hardly ever between us, but it was never personal when she shrugged off for a while to calm down. I caught wind of it quickly and always loved giving Chloe her space when she needed it. It made me feel like I was being a good friend, like I was helping her feel better. And the reward was always so great when she came back. She'd be kind of flushed and her eyes would be a little hot still, but her smile would be back or it'd be peeking. And she always shot a grin at me. Her special grin just for me, and she'd say _"Thanks, Max. You're the best."_ and I never knew what I did, even now. But it always tickled me so pink I couldn't stop smiling for the next few hours.

This Chloe probably wouldn't come back looking like that. She'd probably still look murderous, but I'd take a chance and say she probably still liked her space. So I'll give it to her.

 _Happily._

But I _will_ write her that letter. It'd probably be one of the most insulting things I could do but any decision I made would probably be a wrong one. And I already did _nothing_ long enough. Chloe deserved a little effort. At least. And some groveling. She'd probably enjoy some groveling.

Someone shook my shoulder and the world popped into life like a bubble, poked with a needle. My heart jumped and the wind was suddenly really loud and laughter sounded in the distance. Subtle buzzing sounded somewhere behind me and the roar of the students running around campus registered to me. I smelled the sweetness of the trees and the gentle sway of the trunk pressed up against my back. I barely noticed it was kind of cold out here. And the weight of numerous eyes pushed down on me.

Something flashed and my vision went white for a while.

"Max, you listening?"

"W-what?"

Evan eyed me curiously. Concern seeping in through the corners of his bold-rimmed glasses which he pushed up with a finger as he sat back down on his calves.

"You totally zoned on me." he said, still cradling his photography textbook in his lap, butterflied to the subchapter on angles.

I felt like I blinked endlessly and the concern only washed more deeply on his face as the little circle around me rippled with movement.

"You ok Max?" Warren asked beside me, placing a warm palm on my shoulder. I nodded, inching it off as politely as I could.

"Where'd you flutter off to?" Kate asked, her soft smile on her lips and her homework in her hands. She had her legs crossed to the side because of her skirt and she looked really graceful. Real dainty and gentle, and the grass hugged her ankles. Stella nudged her in the shoulder, snickering and holding out her camera to show her something.

"I'm calling it _Dreamer's Despair_. Fitting?"

"It's rude to take pictures of people without their permission, Stella." Kate softly chided and Stella's whole body visibly went limp and she groaned a great exaggerated groan.

"Relax Mama Kate I'm not adding it to my portfolio. It'd probably ruin my chances of getting into the School of Visual Arts… No offense Max."

"You took a picture of me?"

"Dude, quit being a sniper, Stella! It's the likes of you that give us photographers a bad name."

"Can it, Evan. You're always long-shotting people in the park."

"I ask after,"

"Yea, _after_."

"Asking forgiveness is easier than asking permission." Evan stated, his young mug slightly indignant. "If they say no I delete it after."

"You're both losers if you ask me." Brooke deadpanned from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and caught the dirty old converse leading up to her ripped tights and her pink pullover sweater. She had her huge remote screen in her hands and focused on it intently. "Snapping people living _actual lives_. Why don't you get your own."

The buzzing moved, fading away and Brooke lifted her head in the same direction and followed something with her eyes before dropping them back to her screen.

Someone scoffed and when I looked, Stella and Evan were eyeing her with blank faces.

"This coming from the girl that stalks the whole school on her drone all day."

" _W-what the hell!"_ someone yelped across the yard and a boy jumped out from his group of friends dashing helplessly. _"Qu-quit it! Get away!"_

His friends stared, as a black and white drone buzzed behind him, nearly bumping him on his head a bunch of times but never touching.

An evil cackle trickled behind me and Kate, Evan, and Stella aimed slightly scandalized expressions over my head. I looked too, and so did Warren and after a while Brooke looked up from her laughter.

Her bright grin slid off her face.

"It's for research." she said. Fiddling with the control and her drone came buzzing back into sight.

"Max are you ok?" Evan asked after shaking the disbelief out of his face. "You looked freaked."

"I'm fine, I just had a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"Photos." Stella cut in.

"That's not all I-"

"Actually, photography isn't all Max thinks about." Kate offered, eyeing me graciously and I could only grimace as a response to her smile.

A _highly_ tickled laugh came out of Brooke. "What else is there, boys?"

I nursed a hand to me head. Thought I felt a migraine starting. Stella burst into laughter and Warren perked up next to me and Evan shook his head.

"Max thoroughly enjoys air."

"Lame." Stella murmured and Kate quickly chastised her and Warren deflated and Brooke went back to her drone and Evan just shook his head again.

"Max, ignore these ignoramuses for our sanity." agreed Evan. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing." I tried but he only gave me a look. A _don't bullshit me_ look. It looked like Kate's _I know you didn't do your homework_ look. Except it was less scary. And less guilt inducing. Which was a mindtwister because she looked so _forgiving_ when she did it. Like.. what? "Nothing that matters."

What a lie. Of course it mattered. But admitting to it would require explanation and a whole lot of sharing that I just did not feel up to doing. Evan was great and we talked about photography all the time- _everytime_ actually. But it was the only thing we had in common, besides that I didn't know him much.

I could tell he felt the same because whenever we broached a sensitive topic, which required either of us to be vulnerable-usually me-he'd back right off when I made it clear I didn't want to continue. And by make clear I meant awkwardly bumble rather than speak. I liked that about him though. He was just the perfect kind of distant, far enough to feel safe without being too detached. I didn't have to worry about him asking too many questions.

Which he did now, faithfully, and cleared his throat. "Right. Ok, well, we're still going up to the film event at the park in a few weeks right? They're going to be discussing the power of camera tricks."

"Of course," I said, with a bunch of enthusiasm. Which mostly came from being so relieved that he changed the subject. Good Evan, you're a great friend. "It should totally help a lot with making our shots a whole lot realer and profound."

Film was probably a different beast altogether from photography despite both of them having to do with cameras, but I took inspiration from everywhere and film could be a whole different goldmine I could use to make my work better. Plus it would probably be a ton of fun getting to learn how things work and just getting to know the behind the scenes of an art that makes magic. That was the cool thing about art, any art, all of it was magical.

"Speaking of which, when are you going to show me your stuff? I already showed you mine, twice."

I scratched my neck. "Yea, guess I'm just not ready to show anyone yet."

"Still? We've been freaking about photography together for months."

"It's not a personal thing, it's just-"

"Don't get me wrong Max I'm not pushing. It just makes me wonder how you plan to excel your photography career if you can't even share one with someone you've known for a little while already. People don't thrive in our work by holing their pictures up in a cupboard. You have to put yourself out there."

I didn't know what to say to that so I just nodded instead of replying. Kate watched me observantly. She was one of the few who'd seen my pictures. Before we started sharing our stuff she first saw them on my wall, when I finally let her in. It took such a _long_ time to let her in too and I even debated covering it up every time she visited but I got a hold of myself before I could do it.

Her face lit up with wonder when she saw it, I remember that. And I felt so icky and weird and naked behind her. Shut the door so _quick_ too when she came in. I totally thought she was freaking out about how bad it was, I almost hyperventilated. Well, I was breathing really hard anyway. But when she finally finished drinking everything in she turned to me with such an honest smile I couldn't look at it for too long.

"It's just.. So…"

"Personal." Evan finished, and something fluttered in me. He felt that too? Of course he did. He's a photographer. But it felt so good having someone feel the same as I did. I thought I was alone. "Doubtless, it's personal. For some it's the rawest glimpse into the soul. But that's what makes it so wondrous. Expression should be _expressed_ , Max. What is life but an empty canvas without it?"

I wanted to mull it over, but it felt too close for me to let it even closer. Too real and alive, I'd have to come back to it later when it was less daunting and more benign.

Stella snorted. "Ok, Aristotle."

"I'm just saying Max. Think about all the photographers whose work touched you. It's doubtless all of them were brutally honest work. Imagine how unchanged you would be if they decided to never share it."

"Besides that, where do you think _you're_ going to be if you never put your work out there?" Stella said. "How do you expect to get into any of the college programs after high school if you can't even show anyone a simple picture? I know the schools you're thinking about applying to, Max. They're not just going to let you in for a pretty mission statement and a shiny recommendation."

"Can we not make this stress-out-Max day?"

Oh thank goodness.

I could've hugged Warren for stepping in for me.

"Everyone takes things at their own pace. Max is just dealing with things on hers. She'll get out of it. Right Max?" he encouraged. Bumping my shoulder and I attempted a nod. Right, maybe.

I just had a sinking pit in my stomach now but I felt better after Warren joined in. He was such a good friend, always so supportive in everything. He stayed cracking cheesy jokes and nothing ever felt too heavy with him. He was like a ball of cotton candy that just made everything lighter whenever he was around. That's what made it easy to show him my photos. Partly because he didn't know much about it, but mostly because he felt safe. Like I could show him a blurry picture of some spilled cereal and he'd still say it rocked and genuinely mean it.

"She's got a great collection."

"She does." Kate nodded with gentle, calm conviction.

"Well we can talk about it when she womans up and shares it then." Brooke said, tenderly placing her drone back in her bag before sitting on the other side of Warren. "The job fair's around the corner and I've been eyeing every chance I could get to ditch campus."

"The jobs are going to be outside of school hours, we wouldn't be allowed to take any in the middle of the day." I said.

"Yea, duh." Brooke said. "I meant ditch campus any _other_ time of the day. Some of the jobs are actually in the next town and I think it'd be really good for sanity to take a refresher from Arcadia Bay a couple hours out of the week."

"That sounds like a great idea, we should do that." Stella agreed, something lighting in her face while Brooke's face short circuited.

"Uh, no I meant _I_ would go out. Alone. Outside of Arcadia Bay. I was going to ask if I could bum a ride from any of you when I do."

"I just got my new wheels," Warren threw out. "I can take you guys if you need a lift, it'd give me a great excuse to cruise around. It'll be fun. Max can choose the tunes, you got the dopest taste Max."

"As long as Kate isn't choosing. I'd fall asleep to that classical stuff before we even got there. No offense Kate. It's great study music though." Stella said and then turned to me. "It'd be great if you applied. It could be a good well of inspiration for you."

"I think I'll come too." Kate joined in. "It'll probably be a great experience venturing out of Arcadia Bay. Even if it's just in an office for a couple hours."

"Ugh. Don't jinx it, Kate." Stella complained. "We're gunna get awesome jobs. And maybe we can get Brooke to quit whining about climate change. It's not relevant to the topic, I'm just really bothered by it."

"I won't be joining you." Evan piped. "However I would appreciate the chance to document it, for practice."

Brooke deflated and the most forlorn look casted over her. "This is it then. This is how I will lose my mind."

* * *

"I have exciting news!" Mrs. Davies sang as the bell marked the beginning of class. I slunk into my seat just as she trotted up to her desk. "Blackwell Academy will be participating in the annual Aspiring Dreamer's competition at the end of the year."

The class reacted with mostly blank stares. Me included. Kate and I exchanged a look across tables and a lot of other students did the same except maybe one or two who rippled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

The what?

Victoria was one of the students who bristled with excitement-of course she was-and she perked up in her seat and pressed onto her table.

"No way." she said, eyes wide in disbelief and distant awe. "Only the top schools in the country can participate in that competition."

"Precisely, my Disagreeable Child." Mrs. Davies hooted, completely missing Victoria's flush of aggravation. "Only the best candidates are considered for the scholarship and only a handful of schools enter the competition. Each school enters five students."

 _Five students?_ Out of a whole school? Jeez, how demanding was this competition?

"One winner is chosen out of each group and they are offered a scholarship program to any of the prestigious Visual Arts Universities of their choosing. Each student must submit a photo in relation to a prompt sent to each school in the competition. Every school is given a different prompt and the students must capture the essence of that prompt with a single photo."

"Is it true the prompt is only one word?" Victoria asked. It was obvious the rest of us weren't even there anymore. Not in her head. She asked purely for herself, in a conversation that, to her, only contained two people.

Sometimes I wondered if she walked through life seeing empty space and her as the only life form on earth.

"It is!" Mrs. Davies cheered. "Just one word for one photo and the student's name attached to it. You'll be writing your Mission Statements as well and you'll put together a transcript with your recommendations but none of that will even be looked at until the winning photo is chosen."

Evan rose up in his seat in the front corner of the class. "So you'll be purely judged on…"

"The _wonder_ you capture in your image, yes. The winner will be chosen _solely_ on the _message_ they'll convey through their lens… just _magnificent_ isn't it?"

* * *

Class left me with a sunken hole in my stomach. She probably didn't mean it that way but Mrs. Davies made the Aspiring Dreamers competition feel like this giant steep mountain I had to crane my neck to see. It towered over me, shining in my face too bright for me to handle.

Convey a single word with one photo? That's _it_? I was nowhere near good enough to pull that off yet. But photos were worth a thousand words right? How could I tell the right ones with mine?

The thought stressed me out. That's a whole lot of pressure.

But the _top schools._ I'd get to learn from the greatest professors in the country and learn the craft like only a few people ever got to.

How _badass_ would my pictures be after studying under all the top instructors to ever pick up a camera?

I'd be in heaven.

But there was _no way_ I'd win that scholarship. The idea sounded nice though. To be able to study with the best, how great would that be? How absolutely and undeniably out of my league. What a dream, to study under stars and make galaxies.

Ugh, so I just replaced the crappy Chloe shaped twist in my gut with another crappy twist. Great. My whole body felt drained. Warren wanted to hang after school and watch some movies but I didn't feel up for it. I wanted to see Kate actually. Her presence always made me feel better when I started feeling shitty. It could've been the tea-she had a weird intuition for things and made tea when I'm upset-but her voice helped a lot too and her smile.

Kate was a warm blanket on a chilly winter night. She soothed the biting cold away and made your body stop aching from the shivers.

I looked up at the sun, it'd start setting in an hour. I really didn't have the energy to bus my way over to the library. It was a great deal closer than the General Store was but just the thought of venturing miles away from my bed made me even more tired.

I wanted to make things right with Chloe, but she probably needed space. I'll get a letter to her tomorrow with my apology. Then after that she'd be free to acknowledge or ignore me as she pleased. I'd be at _her_ disposal now. Which she had every right to claim.

Asshole Max is officially on the road to redemption.

It felt a little better to at least be trying. Something I hadn't done at all in Seattle. The trying I did in Seattle was completely dropping Chloe from my life without a word. Which I did over time. I don't even remember when the super forced, obligatory and apologetic conversations full of excuses just turned into flat out ignoring her. I never liked thinking of her too much, the guilt would eat me up. And the questions; of why I was doing what I gradually decided to do. And why I could be so heartless as to do it to the one friend that ever became so dear to me in my life. Chloe was all I had at that age, the closest I ever had to a sister and my deepest friendship. Most of my memories were filled with Chloe. Her laugh, her jokes, her hair. Our park and her room and Joyce's food and William's laughter. Sometimes he told us stories before bed. Those were the nights we actually _went_ to bed, because Chloe would fall right to sleep so she wouldn't be awake to keep me up. And I loved sleeping with Chloe so I never had a problem following behind her. The week was filled with visits, the weekends with sleepovers, and sometimes the sleepovers spilled into the other days too. Everything felt warm with Chloe, my insides. They were a warmth I hadn't felt again since I left. Life with Chloe made sense. A _whole_ life with Chloe and not just the beginning of it. We were gunna rule the world together.

She meant the world to me. We were kids and she meant the world to me. And then William died and everything shattered.

Everything my little brain could comprehend. Chloe was young and she needed me, but I was just a kid too.

What could I have done?

 **xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**xx**

' _Yo Max! You comin' to the spot? Stella brought cards.'_

I spent the first five minutes grimacing at my phone trying to make sense of the nonsense dancing in front of my sleep ridden eyes before I replied. Of course Stella was up, but why Warren was awake so early missed me completely. Why he was awake _before I was_ , missed me completely.

I tried for a coherent response and tossed my phone aside. Wrenching myself out of bed was like lifting a boulder. I stretched, letting out a groan before wiping the rest of the sleep from my eyes. I had to get up and shower anyway. Kate was probably already up by now and I didn't know if she wanted to have tea before we joined the others.

But why was everyone up so early?

*Chirp Chirp*

' _Cool. Never thought Kate could smell like anything other than a forest though. See you soon!'_

What?

I scrolled up to my message and squinted: _'Out soon. Stinky Kate. Shower.'_ Whoops. I tapped a new one, laughing a little. _'SEEING Kate. Sorry. Showering then Kate then the tree. We'll see you in a bit.'_

Kate was probably up already, which meant tea was brewing, so I slunk out of bed and grabbed an outfit. When I shoved out the door Kate's light was on and I grinned. Of course it was on. Between her and Stella, nobody got up earlier than they did. I made the shower a quick one and brushed also. I came back to my room to toss my PJ's and grab my photo bag. My phone chirped again but I just slipped it in my satchel. It was most likely Warren, and Kate and I were going to be on our way anyway. After tea. Kate's room smelled like mango and sweets today. And her smile was still as warm as always, happy to see to me. Like she'd been looking forward to it all morning.

She looked at everyone like that. She just.. _Looked_ , like that actually. It was pleasant. She made people feel important just from looking at them. I think that's why Stella's nickname for her was Mama Kate. That and her other nurturing qualities.

Kate held a huge stainless steel thermos in her hands when she opened the door, and the moist warmth from the kettle in the corner plastered to me like a hug. I felt my whole body perk up.

It was super dorky to say, but being in Kate's room whenever tea was brewing made me feel nearly as giddy as when I woke up in Chloe's room to the smell of Joyce's cooking simmering through the door.

It meant the day was starting, in the _best_ way.

"Morning Max!" she chirped and took me in a hug. I returned it, grinning as she stepped out and shut the door behind her. "Hope you don't mind if we have our tea session with the others this morning. I thought it'd be rude to keep them waiting."

"It's fine." I said, grabbing the little bag she handed me and following her toward the exit. The minute I smelled the mangos I figured as much. Mango was the only tea Stella drank, and she really liked it. She stuck her tongue out at all the others. And Warren didn't drink tea either way so he didn't really care. "It'll be good to bring a peace offering anyway, for coming late."

"She would've found something to hound us about either way. At least Warren's there."

"Oddly." it was still random that he was up so early. "Did you mind coming with me to the library later? The one in town. I still haven't gotten that phonebook yet."

"Sure thing. So you didn't find it at the General Store? I thought for sure it would've had one. There's so many things in there."

"Some stuff came up before I could find it. I don't really want to go back again until I have to."

"What happened?"

I felt my body cringing as Kate glanced at me between steps. The front lawn still glistened with dew when we came out, the sun gave it a pretty yellow gleam and the birds chirped in the trees.

The air was cool against my cheeks.

It felt nice.

And it quelled the churning starting up in my stomach at the images coming up in my mind. It wasn't _life threatening_ or anything. It wasn't like Chloe pulled a gun on him or even the other way around. But she looked so _volatile_ that day. And his shout was like the devil and his rage consumed his whole body and everything was just loud and vicious and _noisy_. Nothing dangerous happened but it was definitely intense and was probably the most spooked I felt in a really long time.

I could come back later, when the air in there didn't loom with shouts and threats, but not now. While the man's rage was probably still plastered to the walls and would only reignite if he saw me again so soon. And while Chloe's presence was probably plastered there too.

I don't know.

"Just some stuff." I decided on saying, but I hoped Kate wouldn't push. There was no way I'd say it and even if I did it'd ruin my mood for sure and I totally didn't need Stella jumping down my throat trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Evan may have been great at sensing boundaries, but Stella just didn't care. At least with Brooke she didn't care to _ask_ , and Warren always knew that if I wanted him to know anything, I would've told him. "I don't… it wasn't anything huge."

But it _was_ huge. Or at least too big. Too big of a thing to bother anyone with. It wasn't Mt. Everest big or Life Crisis big, but it was big enough to require more than the generic _'Oh, I see.'_ and _'Really? That's crazy!'_.

It wasn't small enough to just bat away with a finger or laugh off until a new topic came like people usually did. It was huge and clunky like a giant cord that flopped everywhere if I tried to uncoil it. It was having to move your dresser huge. Or rearranging your bookshelf huge. It was emotional response huge and not just shallow conversation.

It was just a whole lot of work that just listening to was probably a burden. Kate didn't need to be burdened with drama, and she probably didn't want to. And it didn't matter. And I wasn't up for the nakedness that always came with telling people things.

Kate looked at me resigned, hovering with concern. Then she gave me a small smile and nodded.

"It's fine Max."

* * *

"Kate, Max!" Warren jumped up from the grass, and the thin green blanket underneath him and Stella, waving at us with a hand full of cards.

His green sweater hung off his body, thick and bulky with a big atom on the chest and a beanie that covered most of his hair except the little tufts coming out the sides. Stella wore a coat too, but hers zipped up the front and a pink scarf draped down around her neck. Warren had sweats on and Stella wore some soft looking pants that reminded me of a really plush towel.

Stella eyed us above her glasses, still holding her cards up to her face which she puckered in concentration. "Where's Brooke?"

"Brooke?" I said, as Warren moved his bag to make space for me in front of the tree and Kate sat down over the blanket, unscrewing the thermos and pulling little white cups from the bag we brought. Blue latex gloves fell out of his pack.

"Warren texted you to bring Brooke when you came."

Whoops.

"Brooke doesn't wake up for a few hours." Brooke slept the latest out of all of us.

"Which is why I had Warren text you to wake her up on your way over." Stella huffed and the crease in her forehead deepened as she grew disgruntled. "If you want things done right.."

"Why couldn't you wake her up?"

"I got up at 6 for community service. Warren and I went with the Service Club to clean the beach. Which is freezing in the morning by the way. Brooke wouldn't have came." that explained all the warm clothes. And the gloves. And what Warren's doing up so early. Stella most likely dragged him with her.

"You could've came after and woke her yourself."

"Brooke is a bear in the morning. Very much prepared to bite one's head off for disturbing the hibernation process. I would've been mauled." I blinked at her. Duh, that's why we let Brooke sleep. "Which was why I sent you in to waken the beast. To prevent injury to everyone-"

"To _yourself_ ,"

"However it's clear that plan has failed. If that wasn't mango tea I smell coming out of Kate's bottle we'd all be in trouble. Consequences would've been imminent."

"Consequences…" I muttered, unimpressed. "Like what?" really?

"I don't know. That's why we'd be in trouble. I'd have to think about it. Nagging probably."

Which she did all day anyway.

"Why do you want Brooke here anyway?"

Stella shrugged. Glaring down Warren as he sat back down and returned to his position, holding his cards up to his face. He was close enough that I could see them. But I didn't really look.

"I like when everyone's together."

"She just can't survive being alone- _ow_!" Warren rubbed his shin, pouting while Stella glared at him.

"Life's just better with friends." she stated, before thanking Kate when she set down the steaming tea at her knees. "Makes things funner."

"Even if they're seething at you?" Warren asked, flinching when Stella shot him another glare. "That's how Brooke would be if we dragged her here."

"She'd get over it."

"Ehhh, I don't know." Warren disagreed and I felt the same as he did. Brooke _hated_ being disturbed. She would've been murderous.

"She would have." Stella nodded with simple conviction. "Maybe not after knocking a few heads around and letting some hours pass by but she would've. That's what friends do. Put up with each other's shit."

"Even if they drive you crazy?" I asked.

" _Especially_ if they drive you crazy." Stella said. "I'm not highly experienced on the matter but I don't think a friendship is a real friendship unless you drive each other crazy."

"Good to know you're a real friend then." Warren said. Inching back and laughing when she wrenched her foot out to kick him again.

"I'm just saying. Real friends are the ones that stick around when you're difficult to deal with. Not just when it's easy. Anyone can stick around when it's easy."

Swallowing became hard for me for some reason, and I was thankful when Kate handed me a cup. I felt like I could hide my face in the steam if I focused hard enough.

"You're not wrong." Warren said.

"Duh, I'm not wrong." Stella scoffed. "You know some girls don't even fart in front of their boyfriends?"

…

What?

"What?" Warren and I asked.

"Yea! Like they totally keep it in and never let it out. Which! By the way creates quite the phenomenon in your large intestine if sustained for extended periods of time."

"Why are you saying this?" I asked. "And what girls have told you this?"

"I wasn't told, per say, as much as.. Became _aware_ of the prospect, while sitting in during Brooke's behavioral research-"

"People stalking." Warren murmured to me under his cards and he yelped when Stella kicked him in the same spot.

"A bunch of girls just refuse to pass gas in front of their boyfriend. Like, they _swear_ they'll never do it ever."

"Why does that matter?"

"It's _everything_ that matters!" she freaked. "It's no wonder the relationships never last." because Stella was the master of relational physics. Stella who went to bed at 8pm because 'y _ou can't stay in the library a whole hour before class unless you sleep early the night before'_ "What 'bond' can stand the test of time if you can't even be yourself around each other?"

"... By farting." Kate, said.. Genuinely confused. Oh jeez. She's gone and confused Kate. You don't just go and _confuse_ Kate. You just don't do it!

I reached out and patted Kate on the knee.

"Not just farting!" Stella said, exasperated. "But the principal _behind_ the farting."

"Farting poetically." I tried.

"I think Mrs. Davies finally cracked her." Warren said and Stella gave a great huff.

"Farting is an inherently honest act." I didn't know why, but my mind went back to that day in Mrs. Davies' class when she first introduced the new chapter. "Being comfortable enough to be annoying and doing things that would drive acquaintances away is what makes relationships so awesome to have. How boring would it be if you couldn't fart in front of your boyfriend or annoy the crap out of your friends? It wouldn't be a real connection then. It's all shallow. That's not love."

"So you take every chance you can get to annoy us because you love us?" Warren asked. Looking like he worked a science equation in his head. A hard one too because he actually struggled.

"I'm actually just naturally annoying. It's a part of me I can't help. Like a fart. But you guys stick _around_ because you love me. And I show that part of myself because I feel like I can trust you guys. And it's awesome. Anyone else could've just left me in the dirt. Or I could've just been holding in my proverbial farts all this time building pressure in my intestines to the point that they begin to travel back upwards."

I think we all stared at her for five minutes straight. But I could've been wrong.

"Seriously. If you hold it long enough it absorbs back into your bloodstream and circulates through your lungs and the gases start to come out of your mouth with every breath."

"Oh jeez."

Kate caressed Stella's knee like a rambling baby she tried to lead into another room.

"The smell doesn't come out because it makes up just a fraction of the gas but the gas itself does come out and it's just ridiculous. That's why it's dumb to hold it in. Girls are dumb."

"Stella, honey, drink your tea. It's getting cold." Kate bided, staring at us with huge eyes. Warren and I just shrugged. Shaking our heads.

* * *

I didn't know how long we sat there, but a few hours in the rest of the school started waking up, which became evident by the gradual trickle of students off to the bus stop or the parking lot to get off campus.

Nobody stayed at school on the weekend.

Except us, apparently. But everyone was most likely going to the same places. The beach or Two Whales. Or whatever party pits kids my age flocked to nowadays. Might as well stay at school, if everyone would still be seeing each other. But that could've just been my loner tendencies. Maybe normal teenagers _liked_ seeing each other out of school.

I liked seeing no one. Except Kate or Warren. Or Stella or Evan. Or Brooke. But Brooke not so often because she disliked people as much as I did. Did I dislike people? I just _liked_ time away from them. Too many people make me sleepy. I need a nap after. Even if it's Warren or Kate. But I don't think I actively _not like_ people just for existing. Not like Brooke. Brooke was someone best experienced in small doses. Unless you had the patience for it. Or she had the patience for you.

We played a couple card games throughout the morning. We'd get interrupted by a couple students asking if they could join in on some poker. To which I answered with a confused stare. And Stella rolled her eyes. We didn't know how to play poker. And we didn't have any interest in learning it either. We played Speed a bunch of times. Which Stella loved because she always won. And I hated because I process like a turtle. But Kate was surprisingly good at it. And Warren eventually started up some homework for Chemistry.

Brooke finally got up and found us just before noon, cheering happily in a monotone voice about how empty campus is. Stella got her to play Speed, at which point everyone else was all Speeded out and just drank what was left of the tea. Even Warren, but he was thirsty, and it tasted good. And it was cold by then so he could think of it as _'Really subtle mango juice.'_

When the sun was up highest in the sky I tugged on Kate's sleeve and gestured for the bus stop. She took a second to comprehend before she nodded and excused us.

Warren took convincing to stay put but Brooke and Stella didn't feel like going to the library. Stella more so. Brooke just hated the idea of going out into the public. Kate left her thermos with them before coming with me to the bus stop.

"So this best friend. Chloe."

How did she? Oh yea.

"How long has it been since you last talked?"

Counting from two days ago or counting from before that?

"Well… not counting the other day.." why'd I cringe when I said that? "Five years."

Kate whistled. "Wow." I nodded. Pursing my lips. "No wonder you're so nervous."

What? Did I act nervous?

"You look troubled by it. It explains your zone out yesterday."

"People zone sometimes."

"They don't zone into a realm of anxious panic." Kate paused. Stopping with me by the bus sign and grew thoughtful. "Actually a lot do. But _you_ don't unless you have something on your mind."

The air wasn't as cold as it was in the morning, and the sun felt good on my face. And it would've been the best excuse to be distracted and inch away from her if I didn't feel Kate's gentle gaze patiently waiting for my attention. _Patiently_ _waiting_. Ugh.

"Since you spoke to each other the other day and you're still venturing out to grab a phonebook just to reach her I'm going to assume things didn't go so smoothly between you."

I cringed. "It didn't." I said, exhaling. And it felt so good to say. In a painful kind of way. "She stormed off and I don't know if she wants anything to do with me or if I even have the right to try talking to her."

"What do you want to do?"

" _I don't know."_ I mean I was never sure about _anything_ I did in life. "I was going to write her a letter. Which is probably the dumbest thing I can do with our history, but I don't know what else to do."

"You could go to her house."

"Yea…" I trailed off. Avoiding her eyes. "It crossed my mind."

"You said you left her behind." Kate recalled. "If she stormed off on you the other day then she's obviously still hurt about it. Max, you're here now. And she deserves more than a letter. Especially now that you're back in town."

"I know.. I just don't know where to start."

"I don't think anyone ever does. But you can start with sorry." I looked at her helplessly, and she just smiled at me encouragingly. "It's not glamorous, but you have to start somewhere."

A giant burbling engine pulled up at the curb and the large school bus threw shadow on the both of us. Kate didn't stop smiling and as the bus doors squeaked open she gestured to it with her chin.

"Go on." and I froze, staring at her frantically because _dude_ , she totally just put me on the spot. And it felt like if I stepped foot on this bus now it'd take me straight to Chloe's house no matter what I told the driver or what stop I tried to escape to. "You know where she lives. I'm sure it hasn't changed."

* * *

I'd be lying if I said I didn't contemplate jumping out the window.

Or riding straight past her stop or hopping straight out a few blocks from Blackwell and lingering for a couple hours before circling back and hiding in my dorm room until tomorrow. The last time I took the bus it felt like _hours_ until I reached the store and granted it was all the way at the other end of town but even that day the stop closest to Chloe's house felt like it took way more than the couple seconds I found myself sitting in that sunken old pleather seat smelling dust and stale air.

What the heck was I doing already walking down her street? Why the heck were my legs moving by themselves and why wouldn't they stop? I understood why they quivered, my whole body quivered and my heart spazzed out of my chest and bounced around in my stomach and my throat turned into this black hole that sucked in air and my palms sweated and my teeth hinged shut and if I looked at them my hands probably quaked as much as my knees did.

What the crap am I doing?

G-damnit, Kate.

Chloe's whole block looked familiar. Heck the whole town looked familiar but Chloe's block. _Chloe's_ _block_ in particular was excruciatingly familiar. If not a little older and a little faded with colored paints chipped away and maybe no more trampolines in the front yards, which were replaced with cars or couches or gardens. But the sidewalks, and the curbs and the streetlamps that still tilted and the power wires dipping from the poles and a pair of shoes hanging from one that I might've sworn was there the last I was here.

But the part that killed me the most was the tall house in the middle that looked so tired even as a building. Chipped blue paint over the top half and dead, crumbling white at the bottom. Misshapen grass crinkled off the lawn and a crooked mailbox stood watch over the street. And a monstrous, crumpled beige beast lay sleeping in the driveway.

What the _heck_ am I doing here?

I got up until the foot of the driveway, just half a yard away from the truck, before my body decided to stop moving. Wonderful.

Now.

You choose _now_ to malfunction. When I been begging you to turn back since we stepped foot on the damn bus. Great.

In some huge betrayal of my physiology, it seems I've delivered myself straight to Chloe's…. Driveway.

Hopefully a huge gust of wind comes and blows me away before she walks out. Frick what the heck am I going to say if she comes out?

" _Delivery!'?_

What a crap package.

After wrenching my attention from the frantic pounding going through my whole body I tried lifting my feet. And they felt like statues.

I'm going to die here.

I looked at Chloe's truck and the rear wheels were centered right in front of me, which was actually beside me. She's gunna run right over me the next time she drives off. Quick Max, you gotta move.

But my body wouldn't listen. Like it dumped me here and shut itself off and left me to fend for myself. Except I could still feel every tremor of electric panic circuiting through me and my clammy hands and shaking knees as I stood there frozen and helpless. If Chloe's tires wouldn't kill me, then my exploding heart certainly would.

Could a human drop dead by short circuiting? Because I was about to. Right where I stood, standing literally parallel to Chloe's house.

I wouldn't even die facing it. I'd die staring down the long sidewalk that ran for what felt like miles. Miles I would've loved to have between me and this house.

Shouting exploded inside and I'm pretty sure my heart busted or something because I felt like I'd cough it out of my mouth. Chloe's voice was jagged as ever and it didn't help me with my situation at all. I couldn't make out her words but I didn't need to to know she was pissed. It seemed pissed was her default emotion now.

The other voice reverberated like a drum. Deep and vibrating and I don't think I heard it before. I couldn't tell where they were in the house but I eventually caught on when Chloe's voice got closer to the front door and I think I gave up at that point because when it swung open and the last of her acidic words shot out of her mouth I kind of just stood there like a sacrifice that finally accepted my fate.

 _Take me then. Just take everything._

But every inch of me still quivered and my heart roared in my ears and everything exploded onto a more frantic level when Chloe's voice barrelled out:

" **-uck off dickface stay the fuck out of my business!"**

And the door slammed and some keys jingled and boots beat against the pavement and hot words spilled out of searing lips which fell to the ground like burning embers that ate through the floor. And then all of it stopped and a blue head looked at me and I couldn't even turn mine to look at it directly.

I moved my eyes though. And Chloe's face was…. Processing?

"Max what the…"

Chloe stood near her doorway, facing me, while I faced up her sidewalk. Excruciatingly. _Excruciatingly_ frozen.

Oh good lord someone help me.

I couldn't even move my head. "Uh..m-I." this, really? Is this really how it's going to end for me? "H-hi."

I regretted it the moment I said it but heck how much worse could anything get I was stuck in a fucking driveway for crying out loud and nothing was even blocking me. I wasn't even in a car!

Chloe stared at me for a dead second that stretched for hours and during the whole thing her eyes felt too sharp to look at but then something flickered in them and it flickered through her whole face and before I could think straight enough to question what it was she exploded.

She exploded in laughter.

And I had no fricking clue how to react to that. And even if I did, my stupid body probably wouldn't even let me do it.

Maybe I would've felt embarrassed if it were any other situation but I was so fucking disgruntled and confused it didn't even register. Chloe was laughing. Like literally laughing and she held herself up by her knees and she grabbed her stomach like it ached and it even got to a point when she laughed so hard the noise got stuck in her throat.

What the fuck Chloe.

If my stupid face allowed me to I would've glared.

Oh wait it did.

And I think Chloe noticed because she took another look at me and paused and laughed even harder. Like she were dying and it was so labored and heavy and strained I couldn't even appreciate it. Did everything she did emanate pain now? Even her laugh sounded sick.

"Oh man… oh _man_! Oh man oh man. What the fuck, Max! What the fuck are you-" more cackling. More fucking cackling. "Why the fuck are you scarecrowing in my driveway?"

"I came to apologize, but now I have some very different words on my mind." Chloe threw her body up straight and limp and rubbed her stomach happily.

Huh. That happy actually looked pretty happy.

And she heaved like she ran a marathon. She was still heaving when she stumbled her way over to me. Snickers escaping her as she walked around me-leaning most of her body on me for support-and witnessed my lack of physical reaction. Except following her with my eyes and the eternal glare I felt molding into my face.

" _Fuck_ man!" Chloe boomed. Eyes alight and delirious from the laughter and moist with tears. "The shit you do, Max." she said.

Circling me and poking my shoulder and tugging the string on my hoodie all the way to one side.

So help me if she got the end stuck in the tunnel I would end her. I hated when she did that. I hated when _anyone_ did that but no one ever did it except her.

"Chloe, don't you dare-"

"Yea yea, whatever." she said. Leaving the plastic part poking out the little hole. "You seem to be…" she looked me up and down and her face got all puffy again and I felt, in the deepest part of my heart, the yearning to punch her. Because another laugh was coming. It was shoving all over every centimeter of her face. "Going through a tough time right now. I think I'll let you slide this time- _ow!_ "

Oh. That actually worked.

Well good.

Chloe rubbed her arm over her black leather jacket with a little pinch in her cheek. Oh, guess I packed a little heat in that punch. Go Max!

"Ooh, Max got some fire in her. Good." she sang as she backed up. A little more sobered but still warm with delight. It was like watching a candle die out. Slowly wicking away back into darkness. "So you're not paralyzed then. Shame. I think I would've enjoyed picking you up and throwing you in the back of my truck."

Ugh!

"The _back_ of your truck?!" I wanted to punch her again, and I think Chloe _wanted_ me to punch her again but I didn't and I just crossed my arms.

Hallelujah! _Movement_! I will never take you for granted again!

"Tsk, man that's lame." Chloe complained, shooing my stance with her hand. "The punching was funner than the angry face. I hate the angry face."

"It's not an angry face." but it was pretty ironic to hear that from her, who seemed to be the queen of angry face now.

"It looks like an angry face."

"It's.. just… stuck like this right now."

Most of me was racing. Racing thoughts racing heart racing eyes. Trying to make sense of what was going on. I felt disgruntled confused embarrassed and aggravated at the same time. In bursts and waves that danced and sometimes fought and it was all just a whole lot to process.

"And I'm… confused." I said and I managed an irritated sigh. I think I needed food. I hadn't eaten yet. "Do you have a banana?"

"What?"

"A banana. Do you have a banana."

Chloe blinked at me a couple times. "Uh no I don't. I probably do in the house but ain't no way I'm going back in there. Which reminds me." She yanked her keys out her back pocket and jingled them. "Get in. We gotta bail before steptroll comes out the cave to investigate. Probably thinks I'm high right now."

"Chloe-"

"Max we'll get your banana as soon as we get out of here now get in!"

* * *

I sighed out the window as I let the wind stroke my face. The cars in the street whizzing past were constant roaring. Chloe's car wasn't that quiet even when it was off. The skull ornament around her rearview tinkled as it swayed. And her little bobblehead clicked with his dancing head. Her dashboard slithered with a wisp of thin smoke dancing up from the dead cigarette she put out in the ashtray just before she parked and got out the car.

I shut my eyes after that for a long time. And cleared my head the best I could while I had relative silence. When I opened them again I caught the back of Chloe's head through the clear glass windows straight ahead. A dark navy beanie flared by fierce blue hair. And black leather shoulders propped up because she leaned up on the front counter with her hands. The ones cuffed with bracelets of a bunch of different colors. And some of them with spikes. One of them was pink, and it stood out because it was the brightest out of all of them. Chloe hated pink.

I watched her whole body perk up as a boy in a sauce stained apron and a paper diamond hat came out from the backroom with two slim boxes on his arm and handed them to Chloe. She dug in her back pocket and slammed a wad of cash on the counter. She picked up the plastic bag she'd set down by the register and turned to leave. She caught my eye as she turned around and her face was bright and her excitement only rose in the way she bit her lip as she shouldered through the door.

I allowed the laugh pushing against my lips.

Food still made her happy. That was good.

When she yanked her truck door open with the monstrous shriek it gave she was already half way through laughing with joy. "Oh _man!_ I'm gunna destroy this. Here Max."

Chloe set the boxes on the seat and handed the bag to me. It burbled with something inside and when I looked at it I read _'Passion Fusion'_ on the front of a deep pink 2 liter bottle.

"It's the closest they got to real juice. Which is really just juice flavored soda so you're just gunna have to deal." Chloe said, kicking the engine on and pulling out the lot.

"That's fine." I told her. Mostly freaking internally that she remembered I didn't drink soda. It gave me tummy aches. And it only made me more thirsty.

"There's some water in there too. In case it's too harsh on your stomach. Here," she flipped the lid of one of the boxes and a mist of hot cheese and pepperoni came out and made my mouth water. "Grab one before you freeze up on me again. Just one though."

I did and it kind of burnt my fingers so I grabbed the napkins in the bag and admittedly marveled that Chloe actually brought napkins. She ate a slice with her bare hands. Used to the sting I guess. Or maybe she didn't care. But she ate that pizza like she was in love with that thing. And it was pretty funny. It was a cross of in love, and like she hadn't seen it in years. Exactly as I remembered.

She still made noises too.

"What you laughing at?" Chloe demanded around a mouth full of pizza, and it pinched my cheeks up even tighter.

"You still eat like a pig." the speed with which the utter joy in her whole face flickered and died into a glare made me laugh even harder.

"That's a rude thing to say to someone who just hella saved your life."

"Saved my life?"

"You would've died if I hadn't fed you."

"Humans can survive weeks without food."

"Humans, yea. But you? Nuh-uh. Those bony little limbs ain't lasting you more than a few days." Chloe chomped on her slice.

"I'm slightly fuller than you are."

"Yea but I'm scrappy. I'd beat starvation's ass."

After the one slice Chloe allowed me she wanted to save the rest for wherever she was taking us. I didn't mind waiting. The way she drove I couldn't guarantee I'd keep the food down and I wasn't in the mood to throw up and cry the same day I became paralyzed in my old best friend's driveway. Chloe ate two slices before she shut the box and grabbed a napkin to wipe her fingers off with.

I didn't know where we were going until we turned onto the street. It looked way emptier than the last time I came. The trees looked the same. Lush and full and dancing in the breeze. And when Chloe pulled into the lot, shut the car off, and threw the door open, the same gust of forest air danced inside and lit up my chest with nostalgia.

"Come on."

Chloe picked up the pizza boxes and kicked the door closed while I slid out the other side with the drinks. The swing set creaked in the distance, faded and blue and even from here the paint chips were rust colored stains that ate it away. Rust colored stains that ate all the other parts of the metal structures that made up the playground. But those were different colors, from green to orange to yellow. But the old metal underneath was their shared trait alongside the old faded paint.

Chloe led me through the colorless white sand toward the slides. She hopped up on the green platform first and took our drinks and placed them down while I climbed the little green bars.

When I dangled my feet I could still swing them back and forth. Chloe brushed the sand if she pointed her toes too much. She opened the pizza between us and dug in and nudged it to me as an offering. It wasn't so hot anymore so I ate it with just my hands.

"Thanks for feeding me." I told her and she just hummed something, not really looking. Busy reuniting with her long lost love. "And hydrating me."

"Any excuse to eat pizza is a good one." she mumbled, reaching back to grab the 2 liter in the bag. It hissed when she opened it and she drank it straight. She mostly ate rather than interacted.

"How much was it?" she looked at me over the bottle. After a huge gulp she wiped her mouth and her lips bore a reminiscent pink. Yea, that was definitely soda. Stomach churn. "I wanna pay you back."

Chloe rolled her eyes, rummaging through the box for another slice but when she got one she just held it there. "Ten bucks isn't gunna bankrupt me, Max. Relax."

"But still, I have my own money. You don't need to be spending yours on me." she should've been putting it toward her RV. Considering how empty this town was and the way she earned an income, saving up for something as monstrous as that would take forever.

"Dude I can afford to buy you food." Chloe insisted, kicking a foot up on the platform. "The struggle isn't that real. I'm never too broke for pizza."

When I sighed Chloe rolled her eyes again and leaned back against the rusty green bars. "Just let it go man. I'm gunna pay for shit sometimes. You're gunna have to deal." I nodded but I was still reluctant. "And you should be grateful I wanna share food with you. That doesn't happen every day."

I laughed a little but I still shook my head. "I don't know if sharing's the word." I muttered, looking down at the pizza box with two slices left and then my second slice between my fingers I still hadn't finished.

Chloe blinked at me, midway through the slice hanging out of her mouth. "Hey man, I bought you the opportunity. It's not my fault you eat slow."

"Chloe you devoured everything."

"You knew this was gunna happen." she emphasized, holding her arms out like it was obvious. I did. "And you still chose to eat slow. You did it to yourself."

"My stomach gets upset if I eat too fast."

Chloe surrendered some laughter and took a bite from her pizza. Nodding to the distance. As if she nodded at the memory. "Yea. That sucks. I don't know how I'd live if I had to eat like a turtle for the rest of my life. I'd die of starvation halfway through."

"I eat like a normal person!"

"You eat like a turtle dude. You even do that nibble thing they do. They eat like literally one bite at a time."

I tore off a piece of the pizza with my teeth and already lowered the rest to focus on the portion in my mouth. Chloe looked at me, smirking and raising her eyebrows at me. I frowned, indignant. And I held her daring gaze while lifting my slice back up to my mouth. I instantly regretted it. Ugh, too much food in oral cavity!

Chloe cackled. Throwing her head back. "Don't choke yourself dork. I don't do two good deeds in a day. You spent your Guardian Chloe card with the food. If I have to give you the heimlich too you owe me."

But didn't I already owe her like big time for a long time? As far as I'm concerned I'm already in debt. But let me not say that out loud before she leaps on it.

"If you had to give me the heimlich you'd probably kill me."

Chloe laughed, looking at me with bright blue eyes that were pleasantly surprised and drowning in amusement. "Dang girl, you ungrateful! Do you insult everyone who saves your life?"

"I guess I just do it to you. Because you're obnoxious about it."

"Hurtful."

"But thank you for the pizza." Chloe pulled out the second box and presented it to me, hugging the first one with the two slices left like it was a baby. She sat up against the barred wall behind her and tugged the soda to her feet.

"That one's for you. Knew you'd get like a crumb down by the time I finished the rest. And don't try to pay me for it or not eat it cuz I'll pummel you."

I was actually pretty hungry, and knowing the last box was for me made me happier than it should have. We sat there for a while, me eating and Chloe making fun of me eating. And she pulled up some turtle videos on her phone and showed it to me and I wanted to shove her off the platform. When she held her phone up for me to see the pink bracelet on her wrist jingled against the rest, and a little silver letter tumbled out of the mess of wires.

It was an R. With a tiny feather and some beads surrounding it.

"So what were you doing in my driveway?" Chloe asked after I was pleasantly full and hugging the little water bottle to my stomach.

"I was trying to apologize." Chloe looked up from the twig she fiddled with. Snapping it in half and fiddling with it some more. "For everything. But my body shut down."

"You're a megadork. I don't think I've met a bigger dork than you."

"Thanks." should I be flattered or insulted by that?

"It's good you came though. Saved me having to drive all the way to Blackwell."

"You were coming?"

Chloe shrugged, breaking the twig in a bunch of tiny pieces now. "I was shitty the other day."

"I had it coming."

"Yea you did." she agreed and it was sharp enough to make me shrink but not sharp enough to hurt. "But I still felt shitty after. Fucking hate that."

Chloe never stayed mad at me too long after we argued. When we were young we hardly fought but when we did and if Chloe said or did things that could've been hurtful she always felt super guilty after. I couldn't bring myself to rejoice at seeing this little remnant of Chloe still intact. Not when she had every right to act the way she did.

"You shouldn't feel that way. I'm the shitty one, I fucked up. You can treat me as shittily as you need to until it's enough."

Chloe laughed again, but it was an ironic one. Diluted with acid and her lip pinched up on one side. "I don't know about that, Max. I'd destroy you."

It made me wince and I couldn't stare into the look she gave me without my heart aching so I looked away but the distant trees my eyes fell on went unseen and the wind didn't even touch my skin anymore. And the swingset didn't squeak and the leaves didn't blow in the breeze and the playground wasn't rusty anymore. And Chloe's leg wasn't swinging. But her resentment brewed and her anger seethed and her pain sunk holes in her eyes and her stare accused me. And nothing was anything anymore except Chloe and how she felt about me. And it felt kind of shitty.

"Have I fucked everything up?"

We sat there for a long time. And the playground was alive around us but I only registered Chloe's breathing. How her chest rose and fell, and the brown feather on her pink bracelet, dancing in the wind.

"I don't know." Chloe admitted. "I'm highly prepared to say 'fuck the world'. People just fuck you over. I can't really see the point."

"Should I leave you alone?"

"You so eager to disappear again?" Chloe teased but it was heavy and starving of humor. "Nah, it's fine. I just need some space. Gotta blow off a lot of steam. I kind of hate you right now."

Ouch.

"Right." the pain the pain. But I can deal. I'll deal eventually. Chloe needed to cope, and she needed space, she loved her space. And that was a great place to start. "Of course you hate me. That's fine, you can hate me as hard as you like."

Because I deserved it and she needed to express it or else it would just fester and spoil in there. She looked so rotten already.

Chloe lit up a little and her lip curled up a different way from how it did a little while ago. And her dimple came out. The one that puckered when she held in laughter or when she was quietly amused. It came out when she cried too.

"You're a dork, Max. It fucks with me cuz seeing your face makes me want to punch you." she saw the wince. She totally saw the wince. But it hurt so bad, who cares? "Then you open your mouth. Or you do _that_ ," she batted her hand at me, aggravated.

Do what?

Chloe sighed. "Then I don't know. You do stuff I can't be pissed at and it pisses me off cuz I like knowing whether to be pissed or something else and you mess it all up."

"Sorry."

She flapped her hand about and looked away. "I just need to figure some stuff out."

"Like if you're pissed or not?"

"Yea. Cuz usually the answer's yes and with you it's always been a shitshow. It's worse now that you're actually here."

I wanted to apologize again but I thought better of it. Chloe might've gone up the wall if I said it again. And I doubted anything that came out my mouth would make anything better.

"I was gunna write you a letter."

Why? Why do I do this to me?

Chloe's eyes ignited with the remnants of flames that were there when she barged out of her house.

"Instead of coming in person. Because I didn't know if you'd want to see me. Even though the letter was a horrible idea."

"Yea I think I would've pummeled you." I bit my lip, hopefully that would keep anything else from coming out. Like how I also planned on never seeing her again. "It's good you came then."

 **xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts! It means a lot to me.**

 **xx**

The only thing I hated about being in a silent room would have to be the emphasized ability to hear every little shift anyone makes. Normally, pin-drop silence was a thing I would marry if I could. Because it felt _so good_ to be in it, but today my star-crossed sweetheart highlighted the majorly minute squeaking of my diligent blue marker across the inner page of the empty scrapbook I hunched over in Mr. Canlen's class.

I should've felt joy and excitement, and I _did_ feel joy and excitement when I was working on it outside on the girl's dorm lawn after finally finishing homework. Until Stella spotted me on her way out and here I am, ninja-doodling in Scholarship Club. Although technically I'm coloring in a pirate.

A Chloe pirate with blue hair and an eyepatch and a little pirate hat and a happy devilish grin on her face because she pointed a curvy sword at pirate Max, looking small and wary and standing at the edge of a plank that jutted out of the side of a ship, looking over her shoulder at pirate Chloe while a group of sharks circled under her in the water. Dark, but Chloe liked dark, least I hoped she still did. And it fit my feelings. Hopefully she'll get a good laugh out of it. Groveling through pictures, a Max Caulfield revolutionary achievement.

She might enjoy making me walk the plank in real life. She'd get a real kick out of it for sure. If she let me see her, once she made up her mind and called me. Chloe looked on the edge of something when we were together. Staring at two different roads going in separate directions. And debate was in her eyes. And they looked heavy too. Heavy and dark and seething. And hurt. Like on the edge of giving up. Saying 'fuck the world!' like she said.

Maybe I _wouldn'_ t see her. And maybe the fateful phone-call I awaited from her would bare grim news.

But the idea still came to me a few days ago and it hadn't flown out since and even if she decided she didn't want to see me again I wanted to go through with it. And whether it commemorated the rekindling of our friendship or the bitter goodbye of it I wanted to make her the scrapbook. And I zoomed back to the General Store-despite the scathing awkwardness still saturated in the walls-and bought the cheapest one I could get, along with markers and paste and little foam letters and shapes and other stuff so I could get to work.

The outside was black, and I kept it that way because decorating on the outside made me feel naked. Especially knowing it'd be the first thing Chloe saw when she set her eyes on it. But I did manage to doodle a simple smiley face with a 'Hey' underneath it. Because I'm not cool enough to think up any clever one-liners that wouldn't automatically revert into something dorky the minute it left my pen.

The inside was crazy though, full of all kinds of colors and drawings and doodles I went a little late into the night doing whenever I wasn't surfing the net for pictures to print. Which I found and was jumping in my shoes to cut out and paste later. But I wanted to finish the pirate drawing first, it'd be the first thing she saw when she opened it. I was sort of glad I didn't have her number, because if I cracked and sent her sneak peaks before it was done I'd probably kick myself later.

"Max."

I cringed and my marker skidded to a stop. I blinked up at the slightly pointed voice and gave Mr. Canlen an apologetic look before capping the marker and reluctantly pushing the open scrapbook to the side. The mess of markers spilled all in it rolled with the movement and I had to catch them and put them back in their little box while Mr. Canlen's stare pressed on every move I made. He didn't look mad though, which was great. But having to put my little project to a halt felt horrible. But I packed everything up anyway and tried to keep from huffing.

Why Stella loved coming here after school all the time, I could sort of understand. Because even though we sat at computers clicking away for three hours at least the classroom was really... spirited. But I suppose it's supposed to be, for an AVID class.

If you're going to spend four years with the same group of students with the end goal of getting them all into college you'd need all the college spirit you can throw at them. And this class _threw at them_. If Mrs Davies' class was an art class this one would be the college paraphernalia equivalent of it.

Pennant flags up the wahzoo from colleges I hadn't even heard of. I heard of Yale and Princeton and UCLA and USC of course but the others I hadn't seen until stepping foot in here.

It even _smelled_ excited in here. Whatever air freshener Mr. Canlen used had me ready to apply to Harvard and bury my face in law books.

' _Hit me with another volume brah!'_

But I guess college students downed beers and not books. Or both I guess, I don't know. Even if I did get into college I probably still wouldn't know. Social norms were never my specialty.

The walls were filled with photos of his former students, bright and jovial. And Mr. Canlen pinned up college sweaters and his desk had tiny little pencils with college names on it and a football and a volleyball that said UCLA and USC on it respectively. His windows were huge and looked out into the grass like all the other classes did except his had little strings across them with flags hanging end to end. And I think he had a class time capsule project pushed up in the corner. I think this because it was decorated in glitter and painted over with galaxies and universes and a moon and some rockets and a big clock at the top.

The whiteboard in the front had Go! Fight! Win! permanently scrawled across the top. Which I could only tell because the marker looked a little faded and it was a different color from the rest of the writing. Run an eraser on that and it'd look exactly the same unless you sprayed it with some cleaner.

I made a note to myself to ask if I could take photos later when the class was empty and I could run around without disturbing anyone. But part of me also didn't want to take pictures. Because why would I want another reminder of the daunting shadow at the end of the year that made little thoughts come up that had me wanting to go to sleep somewhere and not wake up until it was over?

Maybe photos weren't the best idea. Class didn't seem so exciting anymore.

I dropped my eyes from the hyped up walls and they fell upon the corner of my computer screen. Tipped with a little blue plastic graduation cap taped to it. It had a mustache too. Photo this one Max, it's begging you.

"Psst." after a flash and a hum and a warm sheet sliding out my camera I looked at Stella, who had her screen open to the list of links I should've had mine open to. I was open to a google article titled _'Parlor Hygiene'_ curved at the top in old English letters and the rest of it was peppered with pictures of tattoo needles and hygienic gloves and tattoo artists giving tattoos wearing a bunch of crazy stuff for sanitation. As someone who wouldn't touch a needle in my life it still relieved me a little that parlors followed such meticulous rules on sanitation. "Which ones are you applying for?"

I tabbed back to the page I was supposed to be on and shot through all the grants listed there. The amounts didn't matter. Every stinking dollar counted if I was planning on living on campus.

My stomach dropped.

I looked back at Stella.

"All of them." some of them had requirements I definitely couldn't apply for. I obviously wouldn't be getting a grant for something in the counseling field if I'm going in for photography. But a lot of stuff had whacky requirements I could probably scrounge into my belt. "Whatever I can get my grubby hands on."

Muffled cackles cracked beside me and Mr. Canlen in the corner looked up from his desk behind his thing glasses and shushed. Stella ducked under her computer and sealed her lips together the best she could.

"Agreed friend, agreed."

* * *

"From there I'm still not sure but right now I just want to study the hell out of college. Definitely major in physics but I might minor in photography so I'll have a class that won't feel so pressured."

I hated talking about the future. At least right now I did, since College was still in it. But after being dragged into another of Stella's club meetings-which I didn't have too much of an aversion to this time because those grants could potentially save me some ramen dinner nights and days without food-and that meeting being very college focused she fired off on where she wanted to go after high school. And I fired off blanks and busted engines in my brain.

With a side of upset stomach and clammy hands.

Stella's piston mouth was a relief. As it always was for me because I preferred not to talk. But alone time with Kate was even better because we could go hours without talking. It was the best.

Stella went on about majors and minors and studies on the side and I just nodded. The future made me queasy. And I liked just focusing on the moment and making sure everything was perfect, _right now_. Because worrying about the future messed up breathing in the now and took me in limbos that didn't feel like they had a bottom. It could've been a lame philosophy, but I made a rule for myself that if I made the Now matter, the Future would be just fine.

And remembering it quelled the teany pocket of anxiety forming in my gut.

"You're still coming to the Job Fair on Friday right? Kate and I are definitely in, to Brooke's eternal chagrin."

"Yea I'm in. Sounds kind of exciting."

"Heck yea it is!" Stella cheered and someone inside the library shushed us when we stopped just outside. Stella shrunk a little, bashful, but the excitement didn't leave her eyes all the way. "Brooke says Newberg's looking for some people to help out with the Drive-In."

"Do they not have their own group of angsty adolescents furiously avoiding home to hire?"

"They do actually, but their adolescents avoid home by _going_ to the Drive-In. And the ones they do hire always steal everything and sneak off to watch and don't really work so I guess that's where we come in."

"As long as I can get some good pictures out of it, I don't really mind." plus working at a Drive-In sounded so freaking cool.

* * *

Finishing homework early turned out to be a great decision because after dropping Stella off at the library it freed up the rest of my day to hit the town and snap some shots before curfew.

I was already pretty excited by the time I caught the bus. The sun raced me again while I ventured across Arcadia Bay looking for things I could take photos of. It was small but a lot of the landmarks were spread apart and after spending the three hours with Stella after class I had a handful of time to journey before curfew came around and it felt like a mini mission: get as many Chloe pics as I could before nightfall.

It was sort of invigorating searching for things that reminded me of her. Felt like I was on an adventure. Scouring the Bay brought me a bunch of blue-themed photos among others. Crushed cigarettes on the sidewalk, a cat licking himself (went for something a little silly), a weed leaf sticker I saw peeling on the back bumper of a rickety red sedan. That one was admittedly kind of cool and I took multiple shots of that one in multiples angles. I took photos of graffiti and any clever doodles I found on buildings. I couldn't find any tattoo related things in town (because we didn't have anyone who actually did tattoos as a profession) so I had to get creative with that one.

After debating whether or not I had the time I went to the beach and took pictures there. My favorite being the sunset. But the seagulls and the sand and the sea-salted cars in the lot were awesome too.

At a certain point I got fuzzy all over and a warm tickle started in my chest that got stronger every time. I kept at it for a while and the sun dipping under the horizon tugged me out of my happy photography high and a little part of me nudged me to stay a little longer. Because nighttime photos would be amazing but curfew hung on me and the reasonable part of my mind reminded me that my instamatic wouldn't catch crap at night and reluctantly I made my way back.

The beach was a stretch away from school and I wasn't supposed to venture too far but the thrill got to me and I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry. I stood at the bus stop with a bag full of pictures and it felt _too good_ to feel guilty about. Even if I did get back after curfew, today was pretty successful. And on top of all the magazines I had to scour through for more photos and the definite surfing I'd be doing online, I couldn't wait to start putting everything together.

I got back just before security started doing their rounds. Which I only knew because the other kids rushing to the dorms kept cursing about it in hushed tones every time they shoved past me. Some girls were still in the hallway when I got up to my floor and after grabbing a quick shower and padding back into my room I locked my door and yanked my photo bag off the floor and sat in my couch fully ready to dive in to the pot of gold I brought home.

Taking photos didn't always bring on euphoria but the _really good_ ones did. Like if I took a really great angle or the lighting was exquisite or if the colors balanced really well or I captured something how I wanted to. Sometimes it'd be just because of how happy I was when I took it or if I was somewhere really freaking cool, which happened a lot in Seattle because it's such a beautiful city especially at night when the buildings lit up and the cars became stars in the street.

That was one of the few times I borrowed my dad's digital camera because even as beautifully lit as Seattle was at night my little analog couldn't deal and I got mostly blurs and floating orbs that looked like glowing dust. Warren said it was _'still pretty rad if you look at it long enough'_ and I kind of agreed but it was poop compared to what it really looked like. A titanium city, so pretty.

The scrapbook was for Chloe but looking at the photos did bring up a bit of pride and satisfaction because the angles were pretty darn great and the way I used the shadows weren't too bad. Setting out while the sun went down turned out to be really good for my project because I found myself feeling _really_ good about the photos I piled into the 'In' side of the empty space on my couch. The rest I could just add to my wall, which got me super excited all over again because _dude_ , more to add to my collection!

I couldn't wait until I saved enough money to buy a beautiful analog beast that can actually take some night time shots. My polaroid fought and fell bravely on the nighttime battlefield, but his valiant efforts will always be appreciated. I'd just have to save patiently, which would hopefully be a little easier and faster when Friday rolls in and I grab up that Drive-In job.

Half way through cutting up the pictures I printed off the internet and positioning them in the thick blank pages of Chloe's scrapbook I wondered how long it would take for her to reach out to me. I didn't mind waiting as long as I had to. Knowing that I at least knew she was contemplating and working through some things instead of just hating me relentlessly. It felt good not to have her number because it put everything in her hands. It was definitely the guilt talking but giving everything to Chloe felt like the justified thing to do. Because the decision belonged to her. Although truthfully I really wanted to run to her house and tell her….. I don't know. Anything really.

Which would most likely go horribly wrong because every time I got excited about things and then actually confronted those things I turned into a puddle of smudge and noises and I'm pretty sure there are people in the world that genuinely believe I have a mental disability from having witnessed those encounters. Except Chloe, despite witnessing probably the worst a few days ago. But maybe she did, I definitely couldn't blame her.

But it's all the more reason to go to Chloe and stutter at her some more. She was used to my weirdness anyway. And I really wanted to see her. But that could've been the miles of cushion separating us right now. Like meeting a role model after however long of freaking over them. But I might be the only person who'd turn into a frantic and awkward mess who couldn't carry a conversation if it was strapped to my back with duct tape if I ever met a role model. I hated when I did that though. It frustrated the crap out of me. But if I went over to Chloe's house right now, it's exactly what I would do.

And she wasn't exactly the happiest to see me.

It'd been almost a week since Chloe brought me to the park and when she dropped me off she handed me her phone to save my number.

"For when I figure out if I wanna punch you or not."

I shot her an unconvincing smile, least I thought it was unconvincing because she stared at it for a bit and then her eyes flickered and she shook her head and shooed me out of her truck more pissed than she normally looked.

Just as my stomach began to sink at the memory my phone rang in my photo bag and it took some rummaging to get it out. An unsaved number flashed at me when I did and my heart exploded.

The coward in me-which was most of me to be honest-yearned to stare at it until my voicemail stepped in or throw it across the room or stick it in a metal bin and crawl under my bed until it stopped making noise. Or shit, toss it out my window because who the frig needs phones nowadays anyway. Email was _much_ easier to avoid.

I might have been on the literal last ring by the time I swallowed my guts and said fuck it and my greeting was a stupid stutter and it didn't even matter if Chloe wanted to punch me or not because I could just do it for her.

I cleared my throat and tried again, "I mean, yes. Hi."

It was damn good I didn't say _'Howdy'_ because if that fell out of my lips I would've kicked myself real hard.

"You never answered my question."

Her voice was a lot gruffer on the phone and it felt like an engine was growling at me and I wasn't sure if I prefered that in my ear or having to witness the whole lightshow of her expressions in person.

But it was a good prospect to distract myself with instead of actually contemplating what she _said_ to me.

"What question?"

"Quit the bullshit. You know the question."

I sighed, hands all clammy and heart palpitating.

"Because I…" my head fell into my hand, I crushed my eyes shut. "I left because.."

"Save the stutters for later Max. I have to know."

It wasn't as bad as facing her in person, but the silence in between was more commanding than when I was with her. Because if I waited too long she could hang up. But I doubted she would do that. Why'd I doubt that she would do that?

"I left because I couldn't handle it."

It felt so much worse to say out loud. Like a pathetic little pebble in the face of a huge expectant audience. But I didn't have a golden trinket, or a valiant hero's story. Just a dusty little pebble, so pathetic and small that the audience couldn't even see it. And I was ashamed to even say it. And Chloe went silent for forever and I wanted to fall into a hole.

"All I understood was moving and Seattle and boxes and a bunch of car rides to this place I never seen that had these buildings that were so shiny I couldn't think. And mom filling out papers for this school that I apparently would be attending and an empty room that's gunna be mine and a shitload of classrooms filled with faces that just stared at me. And going to bed in sheets that smelled like home in a room that smelled like wood which was jarring because home smelled like vanilla. And the nights were colder and it rained way more and the streets were so noisy and filled with buildings I didn't recognize that were so _huge_ I had to crane my neck to catch the top of it."

I took a breath, rubbing against my temples harder than I should've because none of it justified anything but it was all I could give her.

"Home was popcorn on Fridays and bacon in the mornings and seeing you everyday and the smell of vanilla in my bedsheets or bubblegum in yours. That was all I could comprehend. And then William died and we couldn't even come to his funeral and I wanted to tell you how scared I was and ask you why I lived in this weird unfamiliar world that didn't have you in it. But you had way more to deal with than I did that I shouldn't bother you with how I felt because it wouldn't help you at all. And the times that I did talk to you you talked about William, and how sad you were. And I didn't want to deal with it. So I ran away. I sucked and I ran away."

And I dropped her on her face and left her alone when she really shouldn't have been alone. It didn't matter how confusing everything was and how much I couldn't understand because Chloe needed me and she searched for me and reached out to me and I disappeared. I fucked up.

"I fucked up." I said, simply and truthfully and it was the only thing that mattered out of the whole mess of words I just threw at her. "I just fucked up. Real bad. And you deserved more than what I gave you and I should've been there for you. I'm sorry. And you don't have to forgive me. I'm just sorry."

 **xx**


End file.
